The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy--A Sequel to Second Life
by Princepen
Summary: Set in 2365 in an Alternative Universe created in the story Second Life, the crew of the USS Enterprise is sent across the galaxy on a dangerous adventure involving pirates, criminals, and a legendary artifact. Along the way, loyalty, love, and human nature will be tested. But at what cost?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek**

* * *

"_**Captain's Log: Star Date 42356.2.**__ The Enterprise is returning from the Beta Quadrant where a distress call we were assigned to investigate ended up being an apparent false alarm. According to the small unaffiliated trading ship we encountered whose captain admitted to having sent the distress call, the false alarm was caused by 'mechanical tampering and attempted sabotage' on board his vessel. Although I am skeptical of such a suspicious explanation, the ship turned out to be non-Federation, and without further obvious cause for concern we simply didn't have the authority to investigate further. The Enterprise has now plotted a return course to Earth to pick up Chief Medical Officer Doctor Beverly Crusher, who has finished her role in the rebuilding of Starfleet Medical, following devastating Borg attacks several months ago. Along the way we are scheduled to rendezvous with the USS Columbia to pick up our new Chief of Security."_

* * *

Captain Picard, who was seated at his ready room desk, turned at the sound of insistent beeping. He took a few deep calming breaths before answering. He knew exactly who was calling him, but he found that as much as he longed to reunite with Beverly Crusher, he had no desire to continue an argument he had been re-hashing with her for over two weeks now. A few hours ago she had called him, berated him yet again for agreeing to accept the transfer request of Lieutenant Natasha Yar.

It had been arguably the worst fight he'd had with Beverly since returning from the Q Continuum roughly seven months ago. Given the events that had taken place during those months, he was understanding of and sympathetic with her fears. But it was time for everyone who had experienced that upheaval to begin moving on. Sighing he pressed a pad on his desk, striving to keep his expression as open as possible.

Her image blinked onto the screen immediately, but his joy at seeing her beauty was dampened slightly by her grave expression. "Beverly—"

"First of all, I'm sorry," she said quickly, apparently unconcerned with the usual salutations. "As Captain, of course it is your choice who you think should be part of this crew."

Oh. Not the _of course it's your choice but you're still wrong _approach again. He consciously avoided palming his face in frustration. "Beverly—"

"Jean-Luc, please just let me finish."

He lifted his open palms. "By all means…."

"You are bringing a potential time bomb on board your ship. And there is no excuse, Jean-Luc, because we all know what she is capable of! I can't _believe_ that you would make a decision like this knowing that your son is coming on board—she nearly had Wesley killed, and I know you haven't forgotten, because you are the one who saved him."

He merely sat in silence. Perhaps the longer she was allowed to vent, the more she would come to forgive him and his decision, coming to terms with it at last. Or perhaps not.

"And she nearly killed Jack. And Jean-Luc, if I had lost you…I just don't know," she trailed off as her voice began to break.

He cleared his throat. "But you didn't lose me. I'm here. And soon you'll be back on board and we can be together again. Isn't that what we both have wanted for so long?"

"Yes," she whispered, wiping at her eyes. The trauma from the experience was still fresh for all of them.

"Well, alright then-" But to his dismay, he noted she had gathered herself and picked up steam again.

"And Seth…I just worry for him too, Jean-Luc."

Picard shook his head. "Beverly, Seth has no idea who Yar is—or rather _was_ when she had the power of the Q. And I certainly have no intention of telling him. The boy has enough to deal with as it is." Seth, one of the orphaned children of the Marca II Colony, kidnapped, assimilated, and then rescued from the Borg had been living with him for two months now on board the Enterprise. Recently, Picard had made the poorly-thought out decision to become the ten year old Seth's guardian. For the most part, he still believed it had been the correct decision.

"But how is he, Jean-Luc? I hope you don't refer to him as 'the boy' in his presence."

"He's fine, and no, I refer to him by his name of course."

"Good. Because children are quite sensitive at his age—"

"Nonsense…I wasn't," he disagreed.

"And that's why I worry, Jean-Luc."

He shrugged, not insulted in the least. He knew he was a poor excuse for a parent. And now with Wesley, his biological son coming back on board, well…he supposed he had his work cut out for him. "I don't want to burden you, Beverly, but I suppose I could benefit from your seasoned advice in that department," he admitted.

She smiled genuinely for the first time during their conversation. "It's no burden. In fact I can't wait to give you some lessons…." As she continued to smile at him, he gained hope for a moment that she would turn the conversation to more pleasurable topics, but alas….

"So, back to Yar," she was saying, her expression growing serious again. "At the very least you need to warn Geordi, Data, and anyone else who was actually aware of her—her destruction and chaos before you and Q re-set her life for her."

"I've already informed those who knew who she was, Beverly, but as you know this crew is mostly new. Jack inspired a great deal of loyalty, and when he left the _Enterprise_, so did many of his crew."

"Yes, but—"

"Beverly," he said gently. "As I've told you, the Lt. Yar that is coming aboard as Security Chief is not the same Yar who took over the Q Continuum, murdered on a whim and set the Borg after humanity. She's just a Starfleet Officer who asked to be transferred to my ship."

"And you're certain about this, Jean-Luc? Q gave you his promise that she would _never_ come to realize the evils that she or her alter ego, or whatever you want to call it, inflicted on all of us?"

He sighed again. "There are too many variables to keep track of even for a Q. But Q and I did our best to merge the timelines so that this Yar, the one who never encountered the Q will be able to start a clean slate. I wish that I could say for sure that she could never know, but it's not that simple."

"It never is," said Beverly tiredly. "But I love you, Jean-Luc."

He smiled. "I love you too."

"So I'll see you in a few days?"

He nodded. "Count on it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

**USS Enterprise**

Captain Picard covered a yawn while sitting in his command chair. It was getting late and only a few officers were left on the bridge. He was considering retiring for the night when he heard the sound of approaching heavy yet perfect footfalls. He turned to his right and glanced up. "Commander," he said nodding at his First Officer.

"Captain," Data greeted him and then sat down beside him in the command area. Technically, Data, who had been Jack Crusher's first officer on board the _Enterprise_ was Picard's interim first officer—and Data knew it. Of course, as an android, he had no self-image and was incapable of suffering from wounded pride, so to speak. Picard had no intention of demoting Data from the rank of Commander, as certainly such an officer as capable as Data should be at least Second Officer—but it was no secret in the Fleet that Picard wanted Riker for the First Officer job. None of this took away from Picard's memory that when he had returned from the Q Continuum after eleven years and was alienating almost everyone on board the Enterprise, Data had been one of the first people willing to overlook his flaws and immense ego, and had befriended him.

But to Picard's credit he had continued to patiently wait for Riker to make his decision. After all, the man had more than just his career to worry about now. Any day now he and Deanna Troi would be graced with a new addition to their family—a baby daughter. Riker had promised that he would give Picard his final answer within a month, and so Picard continued to wait while Riker ruminated over the decision on Betazed.

Data on the other hand was very present. "Captain, I have some information which may be of interest to you regarding our most recent mission."

Picard turned to look at him with interest, which Data had come to learn was the equivalent of saying "proceed." So Data, not being one to be shy about holding back information, proceeded. "Following our brief journey into the Beta Quadrant, I ran a routine sensor flush and discovered that the trading vessel we encountered just inside the Orion System scanned us, sir."

"Scanned us? I don't recall our shields or sensors registering such an occurrence at the time."

"No sir. The scan was done with a highly advanced scanner probe known in crime syndicate circles as a 'sticker'."

"Data, I had no idea you were so well-versed in crime syndicate circles."

"I am not sir. I am however, well-versed in probes."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "I see," he said, unable to come up with a more suitable response.

"A sticker probe is equipped with a micro-optic drill that is capable of penetrating virtually any known ship hull and is highly undetectable," Data continued.

Picard frowned. "Was our hull damaged, Commander?"

"No sir."

"So…the purpose of this sticker probe?"

"Without further information, it is reasonable to assume that the vessel we contacted at the very least, desired a method of tracking our course. Whoever placed the sticker probe is very interested in us, Captain."

* * *

_As he ran, the smell of sulfurous gases invaded his senses and the heat of the alien atmosphere was threatening to burn through his pajamas. It was just like Yar to bring him down on this planet without even an environmental suit. Just like her. Ahead of him he heard the frantic screams of his son, and tried to run faster. Wesley...please just make this fair. Let me get my son and then you can have me, he yelled. Or was the one-sided conversation all in his head? His pace began to slow and he looked down with horror to see his feet and legs sinking into the black and red volcanic surface beneath him. Even as the lava began to burn him alive he screamed her name. Yar..._

* * *

**The next morning at 0500 hours...**

"Jean-Luc...Jean-Luc, wake up!" Someone was shaking him. A strong, yet delicate hand was shaking his shoulder; shaking him awake.  
He awoke with a gasp, and began to flail his arms and legs until realizing where he was, and what had happened...yet again. Just another dream. He turned his head to see Seth standing over him, with his slender brown hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady. Seth it seemed was quite familiar with this routine as well. After all he had frequent nightmares himself about his own experiences, but unlike Jean-Luc Picard, Seth at least managed to stay in bed.

"You fell out of bed again," said the boy in a very matter of fact tone.  
Picard craned his neck and looked down at the floor. Sure enough, he _had_ "fallen", but lately when Jean Luc "fell" he actually floated in mid-air. And now he was suspended at the same height as his bed, but a few feet over from the edge, with nothing between him and the deck but air. "Merde," he muttered.

Predictably a warm red glow was now pulsating from his chest, shimmering through his pajamas. During the day, when it rarely appeared, it shone a brilliant white, but at night when he was resting or just waking, it was a comforting orange-ish red, like firefight.

Only those few who were closest to him knew of the lingering gift from the Q he still carried with him. And he intended on keeping it that way. Actually, as Q had explained months ago just after he had left the Continuum once and for all, the Continuum hadn't quite left him. And it wasn't so much that the Q wanted to keep him any longer, but that the Power the Q wielded, which it turned out was independent in and of itself, was enamored with him.

It wanted to be his friend, and so at every turn it sought to please him. He had asked for Counselor Troi's assistance before she and Riker left for Betazed to finish out her pregnancy term, and she had skillfully helped him to learn to communicate with the Power just enough to have some control over its influence. First he had told the Power to leave him alone, but it was clear that it felt indebted to him for what he had done for the Q, and very politely refused to leave. Gradually he had come to develop a symbiotic trust with it. He would not tell it to go away, and the Power would do its best to keep itself hidden from public view.

But it was always there, and in situations where it believed he could be hurt, it predictably intervened. And if it sensed that he wished something to be so, it would readily oblige. It was for those very instances that he needed to learn to control it, because a starship captain couldn't very well destroy another ship with a thought or save a whole species from extinction, and still be viewed as a normal starship captain. He knew for a fact that he no longer wanted to be one of the Q, and he wasn't. But this lingering connection was still inexplicably here. Part of him feared the extent of the Power's influence over him, but he usually pushed these thoughts out of his mind. It was irritating, complicated, and also wonderful in many ways. And for now, it was here to stay.

"Who's Yar?" Seth asked helping him back into bed.

"No one...nothing," he said groggily. "What are you doing awake?"

"You were yelling," said the boy. "I was just trying to help you out, Jean-Luc..._goddamn_."

"I told you the other day not to curse," snapped Picard, pointing at him.

"You swear all the time," Seth pointed out.

Picard sat up in bed, thankful to be awake and rid of his dream, but not thrilled to be immersed in another argument he was likely to lose. "No...I do _no_t," he snapped.

"I _understand_ French," Seth said easily. "You swear a lot."

"Then surely you can also understand the difference between me swearing and you swearing, as _I_ am an adult and _you_ are just a boy."

"So it would make a difference if I were a girl?"

"Of course not, that's not what I meant." For a ten year old, the boy was much too good at semantics.

"I know, it's just what you like to call me around other people—'the Boy'. It's almost like you forget my name or something."

"I do not forget your name, Seth," Picard emphasized, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "And besides," he added more gently, "all that will change when Beverly arrives tomorrow. I am going—_we _are both going to be on our best behavior. And that includes no further swearing and the proper use of names. Is that clear?"

Seth nodded. "Yeah."

Picard nodded. "Good," and stood up stretching. "Thank you for helping me out…you know with the falling out of bed matter," he said, extending his hand.

Seth shook his hand with a small smile. "No problem," he said and then all was forgiven. In many ways their relationship was just that easy. And in others ways it was harder than anything else he had done. Then he turned and paced away.

"You know, you've been yelling about Yar in your sleep the last three nights," said the boy, as Picard watched him walk slowly around the room and then stopped and turned to look at him. There was something very adult—very old, when Seth looked at him sometimes, and it made him slightly uneasy. Few adults would ever understand the terrors that this little boy had gone through. Sadly, Picard was one of those few, as he had experienced the same kinds of torture and humiliation in the collective cold hands of the Borg.

Picard ran a hand through his hair. "Seth, it's very complicated. I don't want to—to expose you to topics that might hinder your recovery."

"You're still recovering too," said Seth quietly. "I thought we were recovering together, Jean-Luc."

Picard walked toward him and gripped his arm. "We are. And I promise you that I will tell you about Yar...very soon. But not today," he said firmly.

Seth nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied for now. "Okay." Then the boy glanced around him quizzically as if seeing Picard's room for the first time. "This is even worse than the living room," he said pointing to the floor. "Wait until Beverly sees this mess."

Picard scratched his chin and looked around him. His clothes lay in piles on the floor and there was a nearly empty carton of ice cream on the floor, along with several empty glasses that had once held delicious root beer floats, as well as five empty tea cups on top of his dresser. Several antique books lay strewn around the room. Seth was right-it was worse than the living room, which they had both agreed a few days ago, was in an even worse state than their kitchen. The situation was in need of correction.

Seth looked up at him with open curiosity. "Is this how you were before you went to live with the Q?"

Picard shook his head. "No. In fact I was quite the opposite of this. I was very...tidy. Everything here," he said gesturing around the room, "would be very much in order, if this were eleven years ago."

"So what the hell happened then?"

Picard looked down at Seth sharply. "I forgot how to live among humans," he admitted. "I forgot about those trivial things that meant so much to me before the Q-"

"Like being clean?"

Picard glared down at the boy. "And I lost some of my practiced self-control I suppose. All of those things my father instilled in me, went right out the airlock," he admitted.

"Well..." said Seth, "at least you remembered how to run a starship."

Picard smiled and put a hand on Seth's shoulder. "Yes." It was true. He still knew how to command. It still felt completely natural and comfortable to him, unlike almost everything else. "Perhaps I should continue studying my old personnel profile," he admitted. "Just to try and better remember who it was I used to be."

Seth shrugged. "Six root beer floats is a lot to drink in one day...you might want to cut back on those," he suggested helpfully.

Picard rolled his eyes. He had no intention of doing such a thing. Besides he was spending additional time in the gym just to counter the fattening effects of the ice cream, and the fact was he ate little else each day. He laughed looking down at Seth. "What a silly thing to say..."

But Seth was completely serious.

"I could cut back to three a day," Jean-Luc allowed after some thought.

"It's a start."

"Fine, I'll try." Picard tilted his head toward the door. "Now…I'll clean up in here, but you have to clean your own room-and the living room," he added.

"Okay, but my room's fine," said Seth.

Picard's eyes narrowed, as though questioning the boy's integrity. The fact was he hadn't actually been inside Seth's room in about a month. "Let's have a look then, shall we?"

He waved to Seth who followed behind him reluctantly.

* * *

"Oh, this is just horrendous," Jean-Luc declared as they stood in the doorway of Seth's room. The boy's room was in a state of chaos. While he was one of the Q he had created order out if chaos on more than one occasion, so he knew true chaos when he saw it. "Everything in here is in disarray!"

Seth looked up at him. "You're just pretending to be bothered by the mess, aren't you?" he asked.

Once again the infuriatingly perceptive child was right. Jean-Luc didn't care in the least how the boy kept his room. But he wasn't about to admit it. When he was a boy his own father would have never stood for this. What kind of example was he setting for Seth? A really messy example, he admitted to himself. Besides, what would Beverly say if she walked into his quarters and it looked like a disaster area? So he pointed at the boy's floor sternly. "Clean it up!"

Five minutes later he stood in the middle of the living room with his eyes closed, a smile on his face, and a pleasant sensation moving through his body. His chest was very warm and he felt wonderful.

"You cheated!"

His eyes snapped open, still feeling a little woozy. Seth stood in front of him with an outraged expression.

"Hmm?" He looked around him to find the living room was now spotless. He jogged over to his bedroom to find that it too looked not only hardly lived in, but had also now been rearranged in a way that was warm and inviting. He cleared his throat and turned to Seth with a shrug.

"You used the Power to clean the house didn't you?" Seth accused.

Picard shrugged again, but then broke into a sly smile. "Sometimes I just can't help it."

* * *

**Betazed**

Will Riker sat in the Patra City Jazz Club holding an empty glass between his hands. He loved Betazed, a beautiful place, home to his beautiful wife, and yet, he had to get the hell off of this planet. Specifically he had to get back on a starship as soon as possible. The mind-numbing tones of what passed for Betazoid jazz drifting in his ears did nothing to make him want to stay.

He sighed, knowing he should go home, as Deanna would be waiting for him. Any day now his daughter would be born and in truth the only thing he wanted more than returning to duty, was to see her face. He should have been flying high, but instead he felt quite low. He waved the waiter over and lifted his glass as the man approached.

The young man tilted his head down at Riker as though concerned. "Are you sure you want another drink, sir?"

Riker leaned far back in his chair. "You can read my mind, can't you? 'Course I want another one."

The man pursed his lips and hurried away. Riker shrugged and ignored the prying eyes of the other patrons. Everyone could tell he was drunk, which apparently was looked down on in this bar. He sniffed in. His drinking was getting out of hand, he knew. What he needed was a starship where synthehol was the preferred drink. Safer that way….

"Thanks," he said, as he glanced up and took the new drink from the disapproving waiter. He sipped it, and he looked into the glass thoughtfully. Ever since Tasha Yar had killed Commander Shelby in cold blood he'd been this way. He knew it wasn't good, and if anyone knew about his problem he would be grounded anyway. Narrowing his eyes, he shoved the half gone glass away from him across the small table. He turned his attention back to the stage, just about ready to get up and go home. After a few more moments he sighed and ran his hands through his hair slowly. Man what he wouldn't give to hear some Miles Davis right now….

"Keep your hands up there on your head, if you know what's good for you big guy," a low raspy voice came from behind him.

Too drunk to appreciate any but the most obvious threat, Riker dropped his hands and turned around. He was staring into the barrel of a disruptor pistol, hidden underneath a large sleeve, attached to a musty grey cloak. A single piercing eye glared out at him. "I said keep your hands up, don't drop 'em you idiot," the voice snarled.

"What the fu—" Riker turned his chair to face the attacker quickly. He grunted as a second weapon was thrust into his ribs from an assailant in back of him. From another direction, he saw a third man approaching quickly.

The man had shoulder length dark brown hair, striking green eyes, and was tall and graceful. His unshaven, disheveled appearance did not mask the fact that he was clearly in charge of this outfit—whatever that might be. The man nodded toward him, looking smug and satisfied. "That's him. This is Riker."

The gun prodded his ribs and Riker got to his feet, assessing the situation through an alcohol and now adrenaline fueled haze. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"We want you to come with us—very quietly. No need to make a scene," the man said. "You're more valuable to me if you're alive, Riker."

"This is a bar full of empaths," said Riker. _Unarmed, smooth jazz-loving empaths, unfortunately for me. _"Keeping me quiet isn't going to keep everyone here from witnessing whatever crime you intend to commit," warned Riker. "In fact they probably already know what you're planning."

The man shrugged and then laughed. "That's alright. I've always loved an audience."

Riker's face cracked into a grin and he laughed too. And then he launched a hard right hook to the side of the man's head. Unfortunately, his reflexes were just impaired enough, and the man was quick enough, that the punch only grazed the man's temple, but at least sent him off balance.

Riker kicked backward into the guy in back of him, and connected with the man's knee with a snap. But then the cloaked man with the nasty looking disruptor brought it down on the side of Riker's temple, and he heard "grab him!" Strong hands grabbed his arm, and then he felt and heard the transporter beam take him away.

* * *

**Hi guys, I hope you are enjoying this new story...until next time. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. -PP**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

_**The USS Columbia**_

"You're going to be fine, Tasha," the woman on the view screen said displaying the same reassuring firmness she always had. "All you have to do is remember who you are." Commodore Gilda Stern, Covert Operations Director for Starfleet Intelligence smiled out at her adopted little sister. Tasha could see that Gilda's short, perfectly coiffed hair was getting a tinge of grey around the edges. But Gilda would always be perfect in her eyes; Tasha's savior. "I've never seen you so worried about a new assignment."

Tasha gave her a quick smile. The Enterprise wasn't just any new assignment, and they both knew it. During the past year, the return of Jean-Luc Picard, considered one of the most celebrated captains ever, had been one of the most exciting and mysterious reappearances on record for the Fleet. There were many rumors about where he had been in the last eleven years, but if anyone really knew the truth of it, they were being tight-lipped about it. Being with Starfleet Intelligence, Gilda would know more than most, but Tasha, who respected protocol sometimes to a fault, would never ask for details.

When Picard had first disappeared, Tasha had only been living with Gilda Stern for about three years. She'd only been seventeen, but had fully understood the impact of Picard's presumed death on the Starfleet personnel she lived with on various ships and star bases. On a personal note it had been the first time that she'd seen Gilda cry. And now she was actually going to serve under the legendary captain, on a legendary ship. She knew that Gilda, who was very ambitious and successful in her own rite, was very proud of her.

"I know," said Tasha. "You're right. I have all those things you taught me to keep me going on the right track."

The skin around Gilda's eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled again. She had never been generous with her kindness, and was respectfully feared by her subordinates and colleagues—even some of her superiors. But with Tasha, she had always provided something, even just a little bit of kindness to remind Tasha that she was cared for.

"Tasha, I know there will come a day when you far surpass anything I've taught you. And when that day happens I hope you will be able to give yourself just a little bit of credit for your accomplishments. So, let me know how things are going. I'm proud of you."

Tasha nodded. "Thank you. I'll talk to you soon, Gilda." As the screen turned to black, she blinked back tears. Gilda had always been the only one who could make her cry; it made sense for Gilda was really her only family. Composing herself she stood up and smoothed her short blonde hair in the mirror, and double-checked her uniform to make sure everything was in place. _Security Chief of the USS Enterprise._ In less than two hours she would be on board. She broke into a quick smile, realizing in that moment just how far she had come.

As her smile faded she turned from the mirror and glanced behind her at her mostly packed suitcase. A small old fashioned metal box with a tiny keyhole lock sat on the bed next to the suitcase. Maybe now, with her new position and rank, and the security of being on the flagship of the Fleet, she could finally leave them behind. She didn't need their security anymore did she? But she decided it couldn't hurt to look at them just one more time.

Reaching up to her neck she pulled from under her uniform a delicate chain with a small key dangling on it. The one she always kept close to her heart. Inside that box were the only things she had kept from Turkana IV. Not even her sister had made the trip with her. No, nothing had escaped from Turkana but her and this box, and what lay inside it. She put the key into the lock and heard the familiar creak as she turned it. Her heart fluttered the way it always did when she took the old crinkled folds of paper into her hands. Pictures all drawn by her, pictures of the same object, and yet each one was different. The older she grew the more sophisticated the drawings became, until the final one portrayed the object almost perfectly as it existed in her memory. A bright shining star.

* * *

**Meanwhile Somewhere on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant…**

Will pushed himself up on the cold flooring, and leaned against an even colder wall. He could tell by the thrumming reverberation coming through the wall into his cheek that he was on a ship of some kind, and that he was probably close to the engine room. Judging also by the fact he could actually feel it moving, it wasn't a very large ship either.

His head hurt from being slammed by the butt of a disruptor, but beyond that, and a moderate hangover, he felt well enough to fight the next person that came in the room. His main concern was getting back to Betazed, where by now (what time was it anyway?) Deanna would be looking for him, and she would be worried. He cursed at himself. How could he have been so stupid to get himself into this situation?

Suddenly a heavy steel door clanged open and yellow light flooded inward, reminding him that his hangover and head wound were no small matters under the circumstances.

The green eyed tall man in charge and the cloaked man with one eye—, the one who had hit him over the head entered the room. "Nice to see you awake, Riker," the leader said.

Riker pushed himself to his feet and stood to his full height. "If you know who I am, then you know that there will be people searching for me. Is that what you want?" he snapped.

"Actually yes," said green eyes, casually. "That's exactly what I want. And if you knew who I was, you'd understand."

"Well? Don't keep me in suspense," said Riker.

"I'm Marco," said the man, as he began to pace around Riker. "And you will soon find that I'm the one who calls the shots around here."

"Who cares? What do you want with me?"

"You're my insurance, Mr. Riker. I have no plans to hurt you for now. I just want my property. Once it's in my hands, you're free to go."

"What property is that?"

Marco smiled at him, flashing a gold tooth. He was a strange mix of sophistication and coarseness. "The less you know, the less likely you are to get hurt, Riker. Once we get to my ship, you can have anything you want. Food, drink, women...men. Whatever you like."

Riker walked forward and stared into the man's smug face. "What makes you think I would ever take anything you had to offer? You took me away from my home. So the only thing that you can do for _me_ is to bring me back to Betazed."

The shorter cloaked man snorted and Marco glanced down at him. They both began to laugh as though they had just heard the funniest story. "There's no turning back, where we're headed, Riker. And let me tell you, it's going to be a lot of fun." He slapped the one eyed man on the shoulder. "You just let Cain here know if there's anything you need."

He turned back to wink at Riker again over his shoulder before exiting the room.

* * *

_**USS Enterprise**_

When Jean-Luc emerged from the shower later that morning, he wrapped a towel around his waist and one around his neck and then walked into his bedroom. There he found Seth standing in front of the mirror examining the still healing scars on his skinny body. Toweling off his hair Jean-Luc watched as the boy ran his hands over the places on his skin which had so recently been invaded by implants.

Absently he brought his palm to the back of his own neck, where a Borg implant had been before the Q erased the physical scars from his body years ago. The emotional scars unfortunately were fresh wounds, having been buried deliberately by the Q to protect him many years ago. However, just months ago those memories had been brought back to the forefront of his mind with the aid of the Q in order to locate and recover the Marca II children on the Borg home world. Most days it was as though it had just happened the night before. And he knew as he looked at the little boy stare into the mirror, that they were forever bonded, simply because of the horrible experience that they shared.

For a moment he experienced a feeling of guilt at the thought of his son, Wesley, with whom he shared a biological connection and a growing emotional one. Wesley too had been taken by the Borg at Yar's specific direction, and Picard had found him before Wesley had been assimilated and disfigured. But Wesley hadn't ever told him exactly what had happened before Picard had burst into the room. He liked to believe that Wesley had been unconscious, but deep down he knew the Borg and knew that Wesley must have remembered something very horrible.

But the largest problem was that he had missed eleven years of Wesley's life up until now, and really all of his life before learning the truth—that he was in fact Wesley's father. At first he had been so bitter and angry at both Beverly and Jack for keeping such a sacred secret from him, but eventually he had reconciled with Jack, although their relationship continued to be rocky. And Beverly, well, he had always loved her—always. And so eventually he had reconnected with her, after they had both learned to begin to trust one another. It had been difficult, but he knew that her presence on board the ship would help him to grow as a person…and yet he still feared the very concept of a relationship. Loving her had always been too easy for him, but it was the other everyday aspects of being with her that he simply was still not sure about. He sensed that she felt similarly, and that she was unsure about him and the fact that he still apparently possessed still undefined extra-human powers. The more he wanted to return to human life, the more he was reminded that he was still at times quite alien in his thinking and behavior.

He blinked, emerging from his contemplation, realizing that Seth was now staring back at him in the mirror with his large dark eyes. Seeing Picard come back to the present, suddenly the boy sucked in his stomach, thrust out his ribs and made a show of flexing his muscles, as though that was all he'd been doing—just joking around in the mirror. Jean-Luc got it. The Borg topic for now was off-limits. As Picard moved to stand beside Seth at the mirror, he examined his own hair.

"Check this out," Seth said flexing his bicep at Jean-Luc and making a serious face.

Picard nodded down at him, and patted the top of the boy's arm. "Very impressive," he said returning to look in the mirror.

"Your hair's getting too long and you need a shave," Seth commented, ceasing his posing.

Picard made a face, smoothing his sandy brown hair down over his forehead. "You're right I should cut my hair. In eleven damn years it will be gone, anyway," he added darkly.

He glanced down to see Seth holding up a hair cutting tool. He shook his head with a frown. "I'm not going to cut my own hair. I'll have Mot do it." Then again, did he really want to listen to Mot talk for however long it would take to obtain a suitable haircut?

"I'll cut it for you," Seth reassured him. Picard regarded him warily. Was this a bad idea? Eleven years ago it would have been _clearly_ a bad idea. Was he seriously considering letting a ten year old boy cut his hair just two hours before meeting his new Chief of Security? Yes. Yes, he was. "Alright," he agreed, sitting down in a chair. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Seth nodded. "Sure I am. How do you want it?"

"Short," Picard said specifically.

"Okay. Um…what did you mean when you said your hair was going to be gone in eleven years?"

"Q informed me that had I aged normally while with the Q my hair would have fallen out of my head by now—at least most of it. So, he said that he's betting everything that in eleven years I will lose my hair."

"Yeah, but Q was just joking with you, right?" Seth said, hesitating with the humming barber tool in his hand.

Jean-Luc paused and then shrugged. "Probably," he said hopefully.

* * *

**About an Hour later…**

"Vice Admiral Nechayev, what a pleasant surprise," Picard said from behind the desk in his ready room.

His commanding officer smiled thinly at him through the computer screen. "I'll give you the surprise part, but let's not overdo it, Jean-Luc. You're never that happy to see me."

He nodded. "Fair enough…what can I do for you then?"

"I'm afraid I have some very bad news. Commander William Riker has been kidnapped."

Picard stood up. "What? Was Deanna with him?"

"No, he was alone. He was snatched by three thugs in plain sight and transported away from a music club on Betazed. Fortunately, it was witnessed by about seventy Betazoid empaths. Starfleet Intelligence is interviewing them right now, and trying to piece something together. We lost too many good officers during the Borg invasion, Captain. We can't afford to lose Riker now, too."

Picard placed his hands flat on the desk and looked down.

"Jean-Luc," said Nechayev. "If you feel you and your people are too close to this, I can send another ship."

He looked up. "No. Send the _Enterprise_, we'll find him," he said resolutely.

She nodded. "I thought you'd say as much. Check in with Starfleet Intelligence when you get to Betazed before you depart. Walker Keel is in charge of the preliminary investigation and witness interviews. He'll give you what you need so you can be on your way."

Picard perked up. "Good. At least Intelligence sent someone…intelligent to handle things."

The Admiral allowed him a half smile. "As usual, we are on the same page, Picard. But there's one more thing…minor, but worth mentioning."

He straightened, his mind still racing with thoughts of his missing friend. "Yes?"

"Deanna Troi is coming along with you, assuming she's not having her baby the moment you arrive on Betazed…."

"Of course, she has every right—"

"And her mother," said Nechayev. "Her mother is coming with you too."

Picard was thoroughly puzzled. "Her mother…I don't understand."

Nechayev folded her hands in front of her on the desk and focused on the view screen. "You will. She is the most insufferable woman-"

"Surely you can simply prevent her from coming," he suggested. "This kind of mission is no place for a civilian—"

"Lwaxana Troi is one of Betazed's top Ambassadors. Like most politicians she is quite expert at getting her way, so it's already been arranged. You'll pick her up along with Deanna Troi and depart after getting Keel's information."

"Understood sir."

"Good luck, Captain."

* * *

Picard began to rapidly pace his office back and forth. He clenched his hands into fists. These were the moments he missed having the vague and sometimes absent ethical standards of the Q. He was sure that if he tried he could figure out where Riker was and at the very least, keep him safe. But what kind of person did he really want to be? He had to be very careful. In his position, these kinds of choices would arise often. He stopped pacing abruptly when the com panel beeped. "Yes, what is it?" he demanded to the thin air.

"_Captain, you are receiving an incoming message marked 'urgent' from Betazed."_

"Patch it through in here please," he said, quickly moving back to his desk. He was shocked to see Beverly's face appear on the screen.

"Jean-Luc, I'm on Betazed—"  
"I see that. Beverly what the hell are you doing—"

"Jean-Luc, something's happened! Will was in a club and-"

He held up his hands. "I know, Beverly…I know."

"Well we have to go and find him, Jean-Luc."

"Yes. _We_ do. In fact we've been ordered to find him after stopping at Betazed. I'll be there in an hour and a half, but I have to pick up Lt. Yar first."

A cloud seemed to pass over Beverly's face. She raised her index finger as if to accuse him of something, but he didn't allow her the opportunity. "Beverly, what the _hell_ are you doing on Betazed? You are supposed to be on Earth," he reminded her.

"As soon as it happened, Troi called me. She's so close to having the baby, Jean-Luc. I needed to be here with her."

"Is she alright?"

"Physically, yes."

He sat down heavily. "And you didn't think it important to contact me first?"

"There wasn't any time," she said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I realize if the shoe was on the other foot that I would never let you get away with what I just did."

He smiled slowly, but his smile soon faded. There was too much to be concerned with.

"Wesley is with you?"

She nodded.

"And how is he?"

She exhaled tiredly. "Depressed. The divorce, and then being away from you…he's really down, Jean-Luc." She smiled softly. "I was hoping you would talk to him."

"Of course I will."

"I think he may be in love again."

"Again? Well what do you want me to do about it?"

Beverly's expression grew somewhat pinched. "I don't want you to _do_ anything except talk to him. Find out what's wrong."

He took a deep breath in through his nose. "Fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Fine? You're a man of few words lately, Jean-Luc."

"Sometimes words aren't quite enough," he admitted smiling slightly. He cleared his throat. "To do justice to what I'm thinking about."

She leaned in toward the screen. "And what might that be?"

"You," he said in a low voice, feeling slightly embarrassed for some reason.

"Oh." She laughed and sat back and then her eyes widened with alarmed amusement. "Jean-Luc, you're glowing!"

He looked down and was somewhat mortified and annoyed to find his chest was indeed glowing a bright white. He sighed. "Why does this keep happening?" he muttered through clenched teeth.

She looked sympathetic but was still laughing gently. He glared at her through the screen. "Are you quite done laughing at me?"

She sobered her expression with some effort. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc…has it been happening to you a lot?"

"Which-the glowing or the thinking about you?"

She smiled at him again.

"Both," he finally admitted, and was unable to keep his own smile from shining through now.

Beverly smiled at him in that way she had, and he was really afraid he was going to start glowing again, but then she leaned forward and changed the subject. She glanced in back of her as though someone was watching. "Jean-Luc I have to warn you about something."

"What?"

"Troi's mother." She made a dramatic strangling motion with her hands in mid-air. "The woman is f—…well she's driving both me and Deanna nuts, Jean-Luc. She thinks she knows everything, and is constantly getting in my professional space about Deanna's medical care. And I hate to tell you this, but she's found a way to get permission from Headquarters to come on the _Enterprise_."

"So I heard…Nechayev told me." He shook his head, unconvinced and sat back in his chair. "Really, Beverly. Can she really be _that_ bad?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

**1963 Caribbean Sea-Northwest Bahamas**

**K-222 Soviet Echo I Class Nuclear Cruise Missile Submarine**

Captain Gorshkov wiped perspiration from his forehead. It was a small matter. He was used to moisture everywhere; moisture in his eyes, moisture in his hair and clothes, moisture on the instruments. The ping of the sonar became steadier. "Depth," he demanded.

"One thousand meters, Captain."

"Captain I recommend we halt our descent and level off."

Gorshkov ignored his first officer. "Status of target?"

"Object is dead ahead, twelve hundred meters, sir."

"Continue the dive five hundred meters then level off. I want to see it up close."

The men were silent as the sub continued to drop down through the murky water. The creaking of the steel and titanium hull reminded the crew of what they already knew; they were too deep. So much for the promised shore leave in Cuba. Now they were committed, but to what, they could only guess.

"We are at eight hundred meters and closing."

"Halt," shouted, Captain Gorshkov leaning over his navigator. "Judging by the sonar image, Captain, the object is nearly 200 meters long, sir."

"Nothing but a sunken ship," Gorshkov muttered under his breath. There were old stories of a WWI American naval ship overloaded with 11,000 tons of manganese ore for armaments. The ship was thought to have sunk somewhere roughly in this vicinity. But then again, this _was_ the Bermuda Triangle, and rumors and all kinds of nonsensical theories were commonplace.

"Captain!"

"Silence! What is that?"

There was an odd creaking and then the interior of the sub grew quiet. Too quiet. Suddenly, instruments began popping and springing out of their places, glass began to crack.

"Outer hull breach!"

There was no point in asking how, because there was simply no time to waste. "Blow the ballast tanks!" shouted Captain Gorshkov. There was a rushing sound as seawater from the flooded ballast tanks was quickly being replaced by air. But something was wrong, and instead of rising to the surface, the ship began sinking further and further down in a twisting path.

"Inner hull is breached!"

Captain Gorshkov grabbed a railing just as the water began to burst inward. Two crewmen struggled to close a safety hatch, but were blown backwards onto the deck as water powered onto the bridge. The water swept the men violently into the command center. As the bridge lights were extinguished and just before he was killed by a powerful jet of sea water, the Captain believed that he could see the swirling water glowing with thousands of tiny green lights.

* * *

**_Enterprise_ Ten Forward**

Guinan leaned over the bar, as the newcomer wasn't exactly at eye level. "Hello," she said simply.

Seth put his right index finger in his mouth and stared up at the strange woman in the large hat. He winced, biting down. Sometimes his hands and fingers twitched following Beverly's removal of the implants from his arms. Jean-Luc had yelled at him a few times for this habit, telling him not to bite his hand, so he just did it when Jean-Luc wasn't around. His hand stopped twitching, so he removed it from his teeth and shook it out, before dropping it to his knee.

Guinan gestured for him to sit down at the bar. No one else was ordering anything adult, as it was still breakfast time. "Does it still hurt?" she asked, pouring him a glass of chocolate milk.

He shrugged and picked up the glass, taking a big drink before setting it back down with a refreshed "aahh," sound. "Thank you," he said and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand continuing to stare at her curiously.

"I could ask you why you're not in school right now, Seth," said Guinan slowly. "But in truth I was hoping you would stop by soon."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "You remind me of someone I used to know. She had the same eyes as you. And nose."

He didn't look as surprised as he should have been-if had he been completely human that is-which only confirmed her intuition. "Oh," he said. "You're friends with Jean-Luc, right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "As are you…." She smiled at him and he smiled back, showing his first genuine emotion.

"Are you an alien?" he asked growing serious again.

She frowned. "Hmm…that depends. If you're as much like me as I think you are, I'm not sure I'm an alien when it comes to you. People like you and me…well there aren't too many of us left. So we've got to stick together."

He looked into his empty glass and then back at her. "You knew my mother?"

She nodded and took his hand. "A _long_ time ago before you were born. I can tell you all about her if you want. Somehow I bet you're a good listener, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

* * *

**On board the **_**Eureka**_** in Orion territory**

The room was bathed in a warm yellowish glow, as Riker came to out of a fog and slowly opened his eyes. Had he been drugged? He tensed his back feeling a stretch coming on, and for the first time realized that he was hungry when his stomach growled.

"I hope you like your new room."

Riker's head snapped around to find Marco sitting about five feet away in a plush red armchair. Riker glanced down and saw he was sitting in the softest chair made of a material that felt like satin.  
Marco was smoking a thin cigar that for some reason smelled spicy and wonderful. "Want a smoke?" he asked.

Riker merely stared back at him.

"Or maybe you have a different kind of vice," Marco said gesturing at the table in front of Riker where a glass of beer sat. Condensation dribbled down the side of the glass. Riker licked his dry lips, but then turned his attention back to Marco.

"No thanks."

Marco smiled and took a drag on his delicious smelling cigarette. "Suit yourself," he said lounging back. "You're on board my ship now, and there's nowhere to go but out an airlock. But…I think someday soon you'll grow to like it here, Riker."

Riker looked around the room, being careful not to appear too interested in the decorative surroundings.

"Not too friendly this evening are you?" remarked Marco.

Evening? How long had he even been here? Already it seemed he was losing track of time. Marco got to his feet and strolled casually over to the table in front of Riker. He stooped down and picked up the glass from the table, examining it with studied interest. Suddenly he turned quickly and hurled it against the wall. Riker watched as the glass shattered and beer streamed down the wall.

Marco turned back and fixed him with the gold toothed smile again, but his eyes flashed with something less friendly. "You prefer violence, do you? Does that better fit your image of who I should be?"

Riker remained silent as Marco sat down on the now empty table and looked closely at Riker's face. "What do you believe in?" He took a puff from the cigar and smiled. "Starfleet? The Federation?"

Riker turned his stony gaze to Marco and lifted his chin.

Marco looked up at the ceiling and exhaled a puff of purple smoke. "Ah yes...I remember when those things were enough for me too."

"Are you saying you used to be a Starfleet Officer?"

Marco grinned. "Hard to believe isn't it? I didn't fit the mold Riker...do you? Maybe not as much as you thought you did…."

"What is this? Are you trying to make friends?"

"And what would be wrong with that?" asked Marco with a sly grin.

"I already _have_ friends," said Riker. "And they're looking for me right now. With high powered energy weapons. So I suggest you bring me the hell back to where I came from before your smug ass gets blown out of the sky."

"I have plenty of friends too, and a few business partners, if you know what I mean. And some of them are Orion." Marco laughed and pushed himself to his feet. "You have a lot of confidence for a guy whose luck is quickly running out. Once I don't need you anymore, Riker, we'll either be friends by then…or I'll kill you. Which would you prefer?"

Riker leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Okay, I'll play along, Marco; what is it that you believe in now—if Starfleet's not enough for you anymore?"

Marco broke into a slow smile, and took the cigar out of his mouth. "Eternity, Riker—I believe in eternity. And eternity is where we are headed."

* * *

_**The Enterprise**_

"Energizing," Chief O'Brien said coolly.

Picard wasn't sure how he would react until that very moment when he saw her. He hadn't expected panic. As she materialized in transporter room one, he could not help but recall that the last time he had come face to face with the adult version of Natasha Yar, she was plunging her hand into his chest to retrieve the Power of the Q while he lay dying on an abandoned bridge on the Borg home world.

Strangely, this thought corresponded with a sudden chill in the same area near his heart, as though the Power was warning him, "Don't let her get too close to me." Of course, the Power did not speak, but as his partnership with it grew, he was learning it didn't need to speak his language in order to communicate very clearly. So he thought back, "please do not be afraid, and do not show yourself. We'll both be fine," he assured it. An easing of the tense feeling in his chest indicated it was listening. "As you saved the Q, I will keep you safe, my friend," it seemed to say. Suddenly feeling wonderful and strong again, he stepped forward with his hand outstretched to greet the young woman as she stepped quickly down from the transporter pad.

Yar was slim yet athletic, with an attractive confidence he had seen before in another time and place—from a different Yar, he reminded himself. Unlike the Yar from his prior experience, who had longer hair usually pulled into a pony tail, this Yar's hair was cut in a no-nonsense short hairdo. To his surprise, she straightened and stood stiffly at attention instead of shaking his hand. "Lieutenant Natasha Yar reporting for duty, Captain. Permission to come aboard."

Picard dropped his hand. "Permission granted, Lieutenant." He took a step back, still regarding her warily. He noted she carried a very small suitcase in one hand. She continued to stare at a point just above his left shoulder. Was she nervous to meet him? "At ease," he said softly, still studying her face. As far as he could tell there was no recognition in her expression—she did not know him. And he silently scolded his own subconscious, telling it that this was the first time he'd met her as well.

After he had introduced her to Chief O'Brien and they had stepped out into the corridor together, he glanced sideways at her. "Lieutenant," he said as they walked along. "You come highly recommended."

Yar nodded with seemingly real modesty. "Thank you Captain. It's an honor to be here…truly." She finally made eye contact with him as they halted at the turbo lift and came face to face. "You're familiar with my record, sir?" she asked sounding skeptical that such an important person would ever read her personnel profile.

"Oh, you could say that," he said allowing her a small smile.

* * *

**Betazed…**

About an hour after meeting Yar, Picard was already transporting down to Betazed. Yar had insisted on accompanying him in case there was still danger, but the reality was probably that Riker and his captors were off world by now. So to her obvious consternation, he ordered her to instead familiarize herself with her security teams, as re-capturing Riker could likely require force.

He had expected to be lambasted by Walker Keel as soon as he arrived, but instead was overjoyed to find Beverly, Deanna, and an elegant but ostentatiously dressed woman he assumed was Deanna's mother, upon materializing.

As they walked toward him he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He was getting better at it—returning to the old self-control. But sometimes, at times like this, it was difficult. As a Q he had gone without sexual intimacy for eleven years, and being a Q, he hadn't missed it. But now being human again it was sometimes all he thought about, however inappropriate that was. Like right now for instance.

_Oh shame on you, Deanna, you didn't tell me your Captain was so captivating. Why he reminds me of a man I made love to on occasion after your father died…now that was an experience I will never forget—_

_Mother, we are in a crisis mode and you are more concerned about your libido than Will disappearing!_

_Oh of course not, Little One, you know I love Will and want him back as much as you do. Besides, your Captain is the one thinking about his libido instead of his missing friend, Deanna. I'm simply picking up on his blatantly lustful feelings for me—_

_He hasn't even met you yet, Mother. And those thoughts may be lustful but they're not intended for you…_

_Oh nonsense! Who else would they be for?_

"Doctor," Picard said, halting before the three women.

"Captain," replied Beverly.

_Oh good lord, get a __**room**__…._

_I __**told**__ you Mother…._

* * *

_**Hello, thanks for your amusing, insightful reviews and for following the story, I do appreciate it. I am hoping this one will keep your interest. -PP**  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

**Earth 2340**

Walker Keel leaned back against the back of the boat, and ignored the hard metal edge that continued to dig into the left side of his back. What an uncomfortable, antiquated piece of machinery. And yet Daniel Bello and his family loved this particular boat, and loved the open ocean, which is why Walker had agreed to come along. Martin was a good friend. Actually, it was Martin's son, young Danny Jr., who had dragged them all from the bustling capital of Nassau—which by the way, Walker much preferred to floating on the open sea getting a sun burn. But it was the last day of shore leave, so why not?

It had taken them almost a full half hour on the old fusion reactor engine just to travel the one hundred and forty miles through the ocean to their current destination. He knew that Danny Jr. was a history buff and enjoyed fantasizing about life as an ancient pirate, but Walker still didn't know the draw of this particular area. However, he was about to find out. "Here he comes," cried out Jessica, Daniel's wife. Walker stood, stretching his cramped legs and walked toward the front port side of the boat where Daniel and Jessica Bello helped a gangly diver pull himself out of the water. Jessica as a rule always seemed to be an excitable person, but Walker had to admit that each time the teenage scuba phenomenon emerged from the water it was exciting. This was his third time down and back, and he must be getting tired, thought Walker.

Danny pulled off his scuba mask as his father pulled off the small oxygen tank attached to his back. Why was all of their equipment so old, he often wondered? Everything was old that is, except for the underwater camera that Danny Jr. was now waving in their direction excitedly. "I got some of my best pictures, yet. Look!" He walked awkwardly toward the center of the boat in his stiff scuba suit and flippers, not stopping to rest for a moment. Walker looked on over the teen's shoulder as he began showing them the holos he'd taken on his last dive.

Fourteen year old Danny Bello was the kind of kid Walker could remember was always Mr. Popular in school. In fact Danny reminded Walker a little of himself, and maybe it was for that reason that he knew he would always keep an eye out for Danny. Danny was tall with dark brown hair and intelligent, piercing green eyes. His tanned skin and rakish demeanor made him a handsome kid. But what Danny really had a surplus of—something you just couldn't fake—was charisma. Everybody wanted to be around Danny, and Danny knew it. He used his powers to lure everyone in and to convince them that he was right in any given situation. "I was hoping to find a ship," Danny was saying. "Maybe an old pirate or slave ship, but I found this…look."

Walker squinted down at the tiny viewer, and put his hand over his brow to shadow the sun. He blinked and read aloud, "USS Cyclops." He glanced at Danny. "Looks like a ship alright, kid. Jesus, just how far down did you dive?"

Danny grinned up at him. "Far enough to get some sweet pictures. But that isn't even the best one." He flipped through ten more murky pictures before stopping on one. A whitish expanse of some kind of odd underwater wall was visible in the holo.

Danny's mother leaned in. "What is it?"

"It's the Bimini Road." Danny said proudly.

"Bimini…as in the islands, back over there?" Daniel Bello pointed across the water to a series of faraway dots.

Danny grinned again. "Legend has it that the Fountain of Youth was located somewhere in the southern Bimini Islands…according to the explorer Ponce de Leon…and others. But no one ever found it."

"What does a mythical fountain have to do with some weird underwater road?"

"Who says it's mythical?" Danny said looking up at Walker seriously.

Walker laughed and clapped the young man on the back good- naturedly. "Okay, Danny, okay."

Daniel Bello studied the holo of the so-called Bimini Road. "What is it?"

Danny looked at his Dad. "No one knows…but it's been there for thousands of years. It's almost a kilometer long. Some say it's made of limestone, but it's also been said that someone built it a long time ago."

"Whoever built it had to be able to hold their breath for a damn long time," said Walker.

Danny rolled his eyes and then shifted his attention back to his father, Walker's friend. "Look, Dad…can I dive just one last time today? I want to try for some more pictures."

His father hesitated, looking out at the horizon where the sun was slowly sinking. "Alright, son, but hurry it up. And be careful, I know you're tired."

The three adults watched as Danny entered the water again.

And it was just minutes later that he came up to the surface, struggling to regain consciousness. His camera was gone. He had resurfaced much too fast, and nitrogen bubbles had formed in his blood on the way back up. Walker would never forget the boy's staring bloodshot eyes, as they administered CPR, gave him pure oxygen and gradually brought him back. But even after he recovered, he never told them what had frightened him enough to abort his dive and forget all of his diving protocols. And so from that moment on, Walker always kept his eye on Danny.

* * *

**2365 Betazed**

Wesley Crusher sat hunched tensely in the waiting area of the headquarters of Betazed Security Council. His mother was not around to tell him to correct his horrible posture. He was stressed but masking that feeling with a bored expression. He was intent on replacing the things he really wanted to do with mindless games on his data pad. Two hours ago he had advanced to the supreme level on his holo game, but right now it was a very hollow victory, and hardly even a distraction from real life.

He knew why they were on Betazed; of course to make sure Deanna was alright, but now that they knew she was, what the hell was taking so long? Why weren't they going after Commander Riker? As soon as his father arrived, they could get underway. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn't seen Captain Picard in a few months, and felt a mixture of excitement and fearful trepidation about returning to the _Enterprise_ again. And now Commander Riker—formerly Captain Riker of the doomed _USS Hood_ had been kidnapped and his whereabouts were unknown. Captain Riker had taken a voluntary demotion following the events of the Borg to focus on his new family.

The rumor was that he might return to the _Enterprise_ as First Officer, although after learning that Natasha Yar would be joining the crew as Security Chief, Wesley's mother had said Riker had begun to reconsider and had told Captain Picard he would send his answer after the baby was born. But now Riker was gone, and the baby was not yet born. Wesley could sympathize with Riker, as he was terrified of seeing Yar again. His father had explained to him the reasons why she was back, and why she was specifically back on the Enterprise, but deep down, Wesley felt lost and betrayed by Captain Picard's decision. He didn't understand how his father could have forgiven someone who had done so much evil, all the while laughing at the harm she caused Wesley and the people he cared about. And now they were supposed to work with this person?

Wesley heard a now familiar chatter, and looked up eyes wide to see his mother, Counselor Troi, and Lwaxana appear. He stood up quickly when he realized that Captain Picard was with them as well. He tossed his pad aside anxiously, hoping that the Captain did not notice he had been playing silly games while one of the Captain's best friends was missing in action. As angry as he was, he needed his father's approval and love even more than he needed to express himself, so Wesley promised himself that no matter what, he would not let the Captain know how he felt about Yar. Wesley brushed off some greasy breakfast crumbs from his shirt, and stood nearly at attention as the group approached.

* * *

**A few minutes earlier…**

Picard reached for Beverly's hand and although he immediately felt the electricity between them, he simply gave her a restrained kiss on the cheek. She took his hand and squeezed it tightly and he still felt her eyes on him as he turned to Deanna. Somehow, he hadn't expected her to be so…pregnant.

"Deanna, I am so glad to see you're well. Don't worry, we'll find Will and whoever did this will face justice."

_Oh I never knew justice could be so attractive, Little One._

Deanna smiled, and gave Captain Picard a brief but warm hug, all the while ignoring her mother's thoughts. "Thank you Captain. And thank you for agreeing to let us come along."

Captain Picard smiled tightly. "Deanna, I really could not have denied you such an obvious right. Of course you should be with us. But I do worry for you and the baby. Where we're going may be very dangerous."

_He's ethical and he cares about you and the baby too…who could ask for more?_

Deanna shot her mother a warning look. "Please," she said aloud on accident.

"Hmm?" Picard gave her a puzzled look, just as he felt Beverly take hold of his hand again. He tried to ignore the electricity once more as he turned to Lwaxana Troi.

"Nothing," Deanna answered quickly.

"And you must be Ambassador Troi," said Picard, extending his hand graciously. Lwaxana took his outstretched hand but left hers there limply.

"Oh," said Picard, slightly surprised by such an archaic greeting, but he bent his head to graze the back of her hand lightly with his lips.

"Oh, how ever _did_ you know who I was?" asked Lwaxana.

"Why you're every bit as beautiful as your daughter, of course," said Picard pausing only slightly. His eyes widened slightly as Beverly's grip on his palm tightened abruptly.

"Oh, you _are_ a charming man, aren't you?" said Lwaxana. "As I was just informing my daughter—"

"Mother!"

Beverly and Jean-Luc looked between the two empaths with equal confusion.

Picard smiled politely, and wrested his hand from Beverly's as gently as possible. "I'm afraid I need to meet with Starfleet Intelligence before we depart."

"Jean-Luc…Wesley's here. I'd appreciate it if you would just say hello to him before the rest of us beam back up to the ship," said Beverly.

"Oh, of course…" said Jean-Luc, all of a sudden looking and sounding awkward.

_Good gracious, Deanna, you didn't mention they had a child together. I would never have pegged this one for a father._

_Don't worry Mother, you are not the only one._

* * *

Picard could see immediately that Wesley was as nervous about seeing him again as he was about seeing Wesley. It was a strange feeling as he approached his sixteen year old son, who was standing almost at attention, much like Lt. Yar had been just about an hour before in the transporter room. As he remembered Wesley's well-established fear of Yar, his feelings turned guilty. His guilt lately was especially strong, perhaps due to eleven years of not having to feel any. He shook off his feelings as best he could and walked closer. Should he embrace Wesley? He wasn't at all certain of what to do. Wesley solved the problem for both of them.

Wesley thrust out his hand toward Picard for his father to shake, and Picard did, firmly, doing his best to convey all of his affection through Wesley's sweaty palm. Meanwhile he felt Beverly's eyes on him again, although this time, the electricity he was feeling from her was more worrisome than exhilarating.

_Oh, she wasn't happy with that paltry handshake, Little One. Hot and cold, this one. She's afraid she's going to be raising two awkward teenagers now—and who could blame her? But do you want to know her greatest fear—_

_**No**__, Mother!_

"Sir, I'm glad to see you," Wesley said as professionally as possible.

Picard smiled as un-self-consciously as possible with three annoyingly perceptive women staring at him expectantly. "Me too, Wes."

A long silence followed, and both Wesley and Picard shifted their feet nearly at the same uncomfortable moment. Nearby, Beverly crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the floor in unconcealed irritation.

Rather unexpectedly, Lwaxana Troi said, "Well…isn't that _lovely_! Now that we've gotten all of our pent up emotions and unspoken feelings out of the way, we can _finally_ continue on to the ship." She clapped twice loudly. "Mr. Homm!"

Picard turned in alarm as a giant rail thin humanoid lumbered toward them carrying two immense suitcases. When he stopped next to Mrs. Troi he pulled out a tiny pair of cymbals from his pocket and clanged his fingers together, tilting his head up at the ceiling in an odd manner. Come to think of it, there was nothing that was _not_ odd about this person.

"Hello," Picard said looking up at the unreasonably tall manservant.

Mr. Homm tilted his head back down to nod at Picard, closing his eyes strangely, but said nothing.

Finding there was nothing appropriate to say to that, Picard merely raised his eyebrows and turned back to his son. "I'm sorry, Wesley, but I've got to go and meet with Starfleet Intelligence. We'll catch up later."

Wesley nodded stoically. "Yes, sir."

He looked at Beverly, Deanna, and Mrs. Troi. "Ladies, if you will now please excuse me." He started away from them swiftly.

Beverly leaned into Wesley's shoulder. "Wes, please beam back up with Deanna and Mrs. Troi, and I'll follow you in a little while. Alright?" She squeezed his arm, and he nodded, watching her hurry to catch up with the Captain.

* * *

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Beverly demanded as she fell into step with Jean-Luc.

He glanced at her with clear surprise. "Huh?" Was she angry with him? Briefly he considered picking up the pace, but then wisely reconsidered.

She hooked her arm around his tightly. "I've got important things to discuss with you, Jean-Luc. And after two months apart, you would think you'd have some things to share with me as well."

"Of course, Beverly, but I really do have to go and see Walker now-"

To his surprise, she quickly moved her stance so that she was in front of him, forcing him to stop in his tracks. "Walker can wait…I can't."

Grabbing his hand she tugged him toward a door off of the corridor. Once inside, Jean-Luc noted happily that while the utility closet was cramped, it was just big enough for the two of them. As she hit the door lock mechanism and then pushed him back against the door, he realized that Walker really could wait a few more minutes, and but that he, like Beverly, could not.

"Jean-Luc," she said to him. "You're glowing again."

* * *

As they stood waiting for the transporter beam, Lwaxana Troi suddenly clamped her hands over Wesley's ears. The boy literally jumped into the air, knocking into Mr. Homm who just shrugged.

Deanna jerked slightly herself but then sighed. _Mother, he can't hear them._

_Yes, well __**I **__can. And when I told them to get a room, I didn't actually think that they would. _And as the beam de-materialized the four figures, Mrs. Troi clasped her hands over her own ears, which didn't really help, but at least was effective in symbolizing her distress.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

_USS Enterprise_

Geordi was getting nowhere with this counseling session. Counselor Sonarra gazed back at him serenely, with seemingly endless patience. But LaForge was beginning to question whether she was actually listening at all, or whether she had simply put herself into a trance, which convincingly displayed an expression of concern. He'd heard that Vulcans could do that kind of thing.

"Perhaps you are clinging to a false view of what your marriage actually was," suggested Sonarra.

Geordi LaForge looked down at his hands. _Was._ Mark had left him shortly after it was announced to the command staff that Yar, or a version of Yar would be returning to the _Enterprise_ as a crew member. Hard to believe that Captain Picard would make such a decision, but then again, the Captain was kind of an enigma to him. For his part, Geordi didn't actually hate Yar—despite the fact that she was mostly responsible for putting him into a coma. It was the fact that he was in a coma for so long that he hadn't witnessed most of the awful things that Yar had done. And by nature, Geordi wasn't the kind of guy who could easily hold on to anger or hatred.

But even if Geordi had wanted to vent about Yar, he couldn't—at least outside a small circle of people. The Captain had forbidden anyone with knowledge of who Tasha Yar actually was, to tell anyone, including Yar about her previous exploits. This made it a delicate dance when Geordi wanted to actually open up about any of his traumatic experiences over the past seven months.

Geordi's now ex-husband Mark did hate Yar. He had never forgiven her for standing by while a Borg drone knocked Geordi senseless in Engineering, and the thought of having to face her again was too much for him. Mark had suggested they move back to Earth, for some peace and quiet, and for a less dangerous life. Mark had never been the type to want to travel the stars until the end of his days, and of course Geordi did not blame him for that. But Geordi _was_ that type. He realized now that he needed adventure, and he needed to find it on board this ship.

So Dr. Mark Cho, as he had gone back to being called, after dropping Geordi's last name, was now an instructor at Starfleet Medical Academy. Beverly Crusher had recommended him for the job, and of course she was still dear friends with Mark. But for Geordi everything about the situation was still awkward. He realized that he had been staring over Counselor Sonarra's shoulder. But the Vulcan counselor didn't mind. He was beginning to learn after the third session with her, that she was a very patient person. She was also brutally honest. Geordi wondered at yet another of Captain Picard's peculiar decisions; why appoint a Vulcan as a ship's Counselor? She didn't exactly exude empathy—or any other emotion for that matter. But then, she also doubled as Picard's Science Officer, where her talents were probably more appreciated by the crew.

Geordi cleared his throat, feeling more uncomfortable by the moment. "False view? What do you mean?"

Sonarra tilted her head. "You have been…unable to separate a realistic relationship with one based on fantasy. It is highly probable that you idealized your one moderately successful relationship with Mark to compensate for your consistent track record of repeated failed romances."

"Well…I wouldn't say _repeated_," said LaForge.

"I would," said Sonarra.

Geordi stared at her for a few more moments and then finally nodded. "You know you're right. Why deny all my failed relationships? In fact, it's one of the things I'm known for around here. Why not just embrace it?"

"I did not suggest that your inability to maintain a stable relationship is anything to boast about, Mr. LaForge."

Geordi stood up and stretched, giving her a big smile. "Yeah I know, but…I feel so much better now. In fact I can't wait until our next session. Thanks, Counselor. "

The Vulcan woman nodded curtly. "I will be here," she confirmed.

* * *

She was clutching the top of his head so tightly that if the rest of his body hadn't felt so good, he might have said something. Gradually though her breathing slowed a bit and she let go of his head and wrapped her arms around his neck. The sound of their breathing was the only thing either of them heard. "I can't believe we just did that," she gasped into his right ear. The light touch of her lips made his skin tingle. "I've never done this before."

"What?" He asked still in a daze. "Oh _this_...well you're very good at it."

She looked at him. "I meant in a utility closet, Jean-Luc," she clarified for him.

"On Betazed," he added.

"You're being very silly now," she said, and kissed him on his temple.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Do you want me to put you down?"

"I don't know," she murmured and brought her lips back around to his mouth. And suddenly there was the real possibility that it would all start up again. He tried to remind himself silently: "_You __**have**__ to go and see Walker,_" but not even his mind was into the idea. Suddenly there was a rap on the door. Beverly tensed in his arms, and he leaned forward involuntarily, bumping the back of her head on the door. Her thighs tightened around his waist.

"Ow," she protested in a whisper.

"Sorry," he whispered back.

And then came another, louder bang on the outside of the door.

"Put me down, put me down," she quickly demanded in a suddenly very authoritative whisper. They rushed to untangle themselves.

"Just watch the door," she snapped, pulling her clothes back on as fast as she could. Once they were dressed, Picard hit the door lock and the door opened. Out in the corridor sat a mobile maintenance robot.

"Pardon me, but you are engaged in unauthorized usage of this utility closet," said the robot. "Please cease these activities immediately."

Picard and Beverly edged their way out into the corridor, looking around them, but thankfully there were no actual living beings. Beverly patted the robot on its side with a metallic thud as they walked by it. "Actually we already finished...our activities. Um," she hesitated, turning back around. "You aren't going to file a report about this or anything, are you?"

The robot swiveled its head in their direction and extended a segmented arm holding a data pad in its metal hand. "Please provide extensive detail of your unauthorized activities on this data pad, so that I may produce an adequate report for my superiors."

"That means it doesn't know anything—let's go," Picard said quickly, grabbing Crusher's arm as they hurried away down the hall.

Once they were a safe distance away from the robotic janitor, they slowed their pace. "Look, now I really _have_ to go," said Picard. He reached out to touch the side of her cheek and she blushed deeply.

"I know," she said. "I feel a little guilty that I kept you as long as I did."

"Well…it wasn't really that long," he said with a smile. She laughed, and grabbed for his hand. "We'll still be able to ship out within two hours," he reassured her. "And we'll find Riker," he said growing very serious now. "But you should really return to the Enterprise now."

He smiled again as she leaned in to kiss him gently. "Bye," she said. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

**A few minutes later…**

"Jean-Luc," Walker said, beckoning him into the interrogation room.

"Walker," Picard said, walking by his friend. Once inside the room the two men regarded each other in silence for a few minutes.

There was something in Walker's eyes that he just couldn't place. Was it wariness? Yes, that must be it. Walker didn't trust him anymore, even now that he had returned from the Q.

Missing was the overly enthusiastic hug Walker usually tried to embarrass him with. This time, Walker didn't even shake his hand, and something within him in a very deep, dark area of his brain said "good". Instead, Walker gestured for him to sit down across from him at the interrogation table. Were they adversaries now? He didn't see at all why it had to be that way. But he knew what this was really about. It was about her: it was about Yar.

"You look well," Walker muttered, as he grabbed a data pad and switched it on. "And totally relaxed."

Picard shrugged his shoulders. Despite the stressful reason for having this meeting, he was completely relaxed, although he had no intention of enlightening Walker as to why. "I suppose I am," he admitted. "Now what do you know about Commander Riker's disappearance?"

_Straight to the point,_ thought Walker. "I've interviewed everyone who witnessed it," said Walker. "In addition, thirteen customers inside that club took pictures of the events as they took place, once it appeared something strange was happening."

Picard watched as Walker personally surfed through the pictures, stopping at an odd one. He watched Picard's face as he touched the pad and it projected a hologram above the table.

Picard leaned in, looking at a swirling golden energy beam. "That's an Orion transport beam," he said looking at Walker with alarm. The _Enterprise_ had just been in Orion territory investigating that false alarm. And the ship had been tagged…damn, he should have stayed to investigate further.

Walker was impressed. "That was a very quick bit of identification, Jean-Luc. Is that your Starfleet knowledge or your Q memory at work here?"

Jean-Luc scratched his temple and smiled slightly. "I don't have a 'Q memory', as such, Walker. However, I do have a good deal of knowledge that I learned as a Q, and to the extent that a human brain can continue to contain such knowledge, I certainly have done so. Does it really matter how I know?"

Walker smiled back at him. "I'm not sure," Walker said slowly. Then he returned to rifling through the pictures, stopping finally to project another one.

Picard's eyes narrowed. A tall man with shoulder length brown hair and striking green eyes was speaking to Riker. Two other sidekicks held Riker at gunpoint. Riker's face wasn't visible in this image, and Picard was almost glad, as guilt flooded his heart again. He stared into the piercing green eyes again. "I don't know that man," Picard said, rubbing his chin.

Walker shut off the data pad's holo projector. "I do," he said. He hit the data pad again and up came a picture of a younger version of Riker's kidnapper. "Daniel Bello Jr., former special operations agent with Starfleet Intelligence."

Picard perked up. "One of your own?"

"A long time ago. He dropped out, went AWOL about twelve years ago. For a while he was off the map entirely. But then he went rogue and began running weapons, drugs, even people. In the last ten years or so he became a feared criminal, even by the most hardened standards. Later he became a major partner in the Orion Syndicate; changed his name to Marco."

Picard cracked his knuckles. "What the hell does this Marco want with Will Riker?"

"Good question," Walker said. "I don't know."

* * *

"Your guest quarters are this way," Wesley said, leading Deanna and Mrs. Troi through the ship. Mr. Homm lumbered along behind them. "And as Counselor Troi knows, there are comm panels and schematics throughout the ship in case you get lost."

"I'm not one to sit and study schematics all day, young man, but I am sure that if I need help I can count on you," Mrs. Troi said pointedly.

Wesley hesitated in stride. "Um…yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, no need to be so formal, young man! Of course you can call me Ambassador or Mrs. Troi."

"Okay," Wesley said, not sure at all how that would be less formal. Soon after the corridor widened and became less bustling. He halted in and turned around. "Well, these should be it," he said, lacing his hands together in front of himself. He raised his hands. "Just let me know if there's anything I can get you-"

Lwaxana reached out and squeezed the side of Wesley's cheek between her thumb and index finger in the most embarrassing way possible. "Just make sure you come back and visit me as soon as you _can_," she said.

Wesley reddened. "Sure. So I should go and see if my Mom is back yet," he said backing away.

"Of course, Wes," Deanna said, putting her hand on her stiff back. "We'll see you soon then."

Wesley nodded and then turned quickly to leave.

_Poor boy, he just wants to see his mother and little does he know she is engaged in the most tawdry—_

_Mother!_

_As I was saying she is doing the most—wait a minute_…Mrs. Troi glanced with alarm over at her daughter. _She's back on board already!_

Deanna looked down with a small smile. As annoying as her mother could be, she knew that right now she would be incredibly lonely without her. Still she continued to be annoying…._Thank you so much for the play by play, Mother._

* * *

Beverly was surprised to see Guinan walking down the corridor next to the slim figure of Seth. For a moment her heart got caught in her throat. With some effort she called out to him. "Seth!"

Guinan and Seth stopped and turned around with similar wise expressions. Beverly jogged forward and then broke into a run, colliding happily with the little boy as she threw her arms around him. She buried her face in his hair. "God, I missed you," she breathed and then looked up at Guinan with a laugh. "How are you, Guinan?"

Guinan merely smiled.

"Thank you," Beverly said, standing up, but keeping her hand on his shoulder.

Guinan looked at Beverly carefully. "What are you thanking me for, Doctor?"

Beverly looked down at Seth, who was gazing up at her. "For taking care of my son," she said, hugging him closer to her side.

Guinan smiled wider this time. "Of course. It's been my pleasure as he is quite an interesting little fellow. And speaking of sons…." She turned at the sound of running feet.

Wesley Crusher was jogging down the hall toward them. He stopped in front of them, and Seth peeled himself off of Beverly long enough to walk toward Wesley. Wordlessly the boy put his arms around Wesley's waist and stood very still. Wesley laughed and put his hand on the top of Seth's head, before awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.

Guinan glanced at Beverly who looked as though she was going to cry. "It's a wonderful feeling isn't it?" Guinan asked simply.

Beverly nodded, and wiped a tear from under her eye. "Can't believe this is affecting me this way," she said quietly. "So," she said in a stronger voice. "Seth can you show us where we're going to be living?" She smiled at him.

Seth pulled away from Wesley and suddenly froze. His eyes got wide and he bit his knuckles in a peculiar way and then shook out his hand as though it was asleep. "Uh oh," he said.

"What do you mean?" Beverly asked with concern. "What's going on, Seth?"

"Well…we were so busy cleaning up our quarters so you wouldn't be mad that I think Jean-Luc forgot to fix up your quarters across the hall."

"What do you mean our quarters across the hall? We'll just move in with you, Seth," she said.

Seth's eyes grew even wider. "Uh oh," he repeated. "I think Jean-Luc made a mistake."

Beverly glanced at Wesley who reddened but just shrugged as though it didn't matter. "Yes," Beverly agreed crossly. "Jean-Luc made a mistake."

* * *

**Betazed**

Picard slapped his hand on the table in front of him lightly. "Are you trying to tell me that in a bar full of telepaths and empaths we don't have a better idea of Marco's motives? What did the witnesses tell you?"

"The witnesses all said the same thing—he's headed into Orion territory."  
"That's it?"

"That's it," Walker confirmed.

"Well…that suggests to me someone who has immense control over his mind," said Picard.

"And it suggests someone who wants us to know just enough of what he's up to. I think that Riker was taken because of his connection to Starfleet, Jean-Luc. Let's assume that he wants you to follow him…."

"Let's not assume any damn thing, Walker. Let's hear facts. What do you know about this Marco and his motivations?"

Walker shook his head. "Most of what I have is classified, but I'm not even sure it's even relevant to what Danny—to what Marco is up to now." Walker glanced away, his expression somewhat pained. He composed himself and turned back to Picard. "What I can tell you is that in the last year or so, Marco's criminal activities have all but ceased. And, even more bizarrely, so have the criminal activities of his peers and even his arch enemies."

"Sounds good for the galaxy as a whole," said Picard.

"Yes, but _why_?" asked Walker.

"Walker, I don't know what you want me to say. You're the one with the inside knowledge, not me," said Jean-Luc poking himself in the chest.

Walker leaned back in his chair and regarded his friend strangely. "But you still have the Power don't you?"

Picard got up from his seat. "Oh come off it, Walker! Not this again…you and Jack seem to want to remind me constantly that I'm not the same man I used to be. And then in the next moment you are just dying for me to use the power to meet your needs. Well, I'm trying to be a normal person, Walker, I promise you that I am. And whether I have the Power still or not is none of your concern. It is simply irrelevant."

Walker stood up too. "You're not being honest with yourself, Jean-Luc. Have you even thought of Beverly's feelings about all of this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've known Beverly since she was a teenager, Jean-Luc; a hell of a lot longer than I've known you or Jack. If I—if I had ever had a child I would have wanted him or her to be just like Beverly. That's how much I love her, Jean-Luc."

_And I love her even more than you do._ Picard sat back down in his chair. "But you don't love _me_ anymore, Walker, do you?"

Walker fell silent. "I wish it were that simple, Jean-Luc."

"Why isn't it, my dear old friend? I'm the same Jean-Luc, after all—"

"Bullshit. You're not the same Jean-Luc. My old friend would have given up the Power long ago. You _like_ having it."

Picard slapped his palm on the table indignantly. "Yes, I do! And what of it?"

"Because it could hurt the people you love—that's why!"

"My power is different now. It is benevolent and only wants to do good. It listens to me."

Walker laughed. "Jean-Luc, do you even hear yourself? You said _my_ power. Does that mean you've decided to keep it for the rest of your life? Have you considered what that might mean?"

Picard merely stared at his old friend. "Are you trying to become my conscience, Walker? Because I already have one of those, thank you."

Walker got to his feet and turned half away from him. "Have you discussed your power with Beverly?"

"Yes, of course. She was worried at first—worried that I might return to the Q. But she knows now that I never would leave her. Besides, there are aspects of it that she… enjoys." He shrugged. "At least I think she does. But mostly, I want her to share in it and to feel safe with me."

"Jean-Luc, she would feel safer with you if you _didn't_ have the power. Don't you see that?"

"No," Picard said stiffly. "I don't."

"The time will come when you have to make a decision. A decision to save Wesley, for instance. How do you think Beverly is going to feel if you save him using the power?"

"But I don't need to use it-I saved Wesley before without even using the power," he replied confidently. "And I saved Jack too…for which he seems less than grateful I might add."

Walker turned and walked back to the table, putting his fists on the tabletop and leaning forward. "What if you choose not to use the power and Wesley dies?" he asked quietly. "What if your limited human powers are insufficient? Could Beverly ever forgive you? Could you forgive yourself?"

Picard got slowly to his feet. "We're friends Walker, but if you ever mention my son dying again, you will be very sorry." Something inside his chest suddenly felt heavy and burned uncomfortably. He broke Walker's gaze, suppressed the feeling and it passed.

"You used to appreciate my honesty, Jean-Luc. What happened?" Walker challenged him.

"What happened? My son was nearly killed, because of my connection to Yar. Because of me! If you think I would ever let that happen again, power or no power, you are very mistaken, Walker."

Walker moved away from him. "Good," Walker said, as though he had resolved a worry of his. And it made Picard boil with quiet fury.

"Are you sure this isn't about your own guilt Walker? I mean, maybe your problem is that you're too busy trying to be everyone's all-knowing older brother. And when one of your adopted younger siblings goes astray—like me, or Danny Bello, you simply don't know how to react."

"Maybe so," Walker admitted.

"Walker why are you beating around the bush here? Why don't you tell me what's really upsetting you?"

Walker looked down at the floor as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to take the conversation there, but then he reconsidered and his words flooded out of him. "Goddamn it, Jean-Luc, I understand now why you brought Yar back into this universe—you didn't have a choice. But why didn't you even consult with me before you brought her back on your ship?"

"Oh so this is what it's about? You wanted me to ask your permission."

Walker shook his head. "I wanted you to talk to me. Like you used to."

"And what would you have said? 'Don't do it, Jean-Luc, she's evil'? Come on, Walker, you know it's not as simple as that. She deserves a second chance—a second life, like I was given."

Walker moved closer to him. "Jean-Luc, when you were out on the hull of that Klingon ship—while Yar was carrying out the murder of Commander Shelby, do you know what I was doing?"

"How could I possibly know that, Walker—"  
"I was snooping around in her room on the _Enterprise_, Jean-Luc. Like the good spy that I am. And do you know what I found?"

"What?"

"Pictures…pictures of the Power of the Q. Drawn by a _child_, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc jerked his head back involuntarily. "What are you saying?"

But he knew immediately what it meant. He had brought Yar back to the present by causing a Starfleet rescue ship to snatch Yar away from Turkana IV before she could be abducted by the Q that night. In so doing he had changed her fate. But what he hadn't really considered is that if Yar's childhood experience had been anything at all like his own, she would have been visited by the Q many times as a child. Apparently this is what Walker had discovered. He raised his finger to point in silent accusation at Walker. Finally he spoke. "Why didn't you tell me this before, Walker? Why didn't you tell me about the pictures?"

"At the time, I didn't know everything I know now. And…just like you didn't trust me to tell me you were considering accepting her transfer, I didn't trust you enough to tell you what I'd found."

Picard laughed harshly. "So now I know that my attempts to bring her back with a clean slate were inherently flawed. Maybe she didn't evolve into a power hungry being because she was never actually abducted by the Q, but she still has a memory of this alien power that visited her as a child. This means that if ever confronted by the Power, the chances are that she will recognize it."

"But maybe you're right, Jean-Luc. Maybe even Yar can change."

"You're just talking now, Walker. You don't really believe that. And frankly I'm not sure I do either."

* * *

**Man, sorry for the long chapter, but it didn't really work as two chapters. Thanks for reading and reviewing as always, and I hope that the story is to your liking. Thanks, -PP**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**Betazed**

After Walker's revelation about Yar's childhood drawings, Jean-Luc took the data chip Walker had given him with the information, holos, and witness statements relating to Riker's disappearance. He left quickly, and this time he and Walker didn't bother with superficial apologies or goodbyes. They had an understanding. He was still Walker's friend, but things had changed- too many things. He didn't ask the question that was on his mind at present; why wasn't Walker coming along on the voyage to find Riker, if he was so connected to Daniel Bello, aka Marco? But he didn't ask, because he didn't want to take any more time away from finding his missing friend; and also, perhaps he didn't want to hear Walker's rationale. So they simply gave each other a perfunctory handshake and then Jean-Luc left.

At first he walked hurriedly toward the transporter pick-up site. But then he started to grow agitated. Walker's voice drifted in his mind. _"…pictures of the Power of the Q. Drawn by a child, Jean-Luc." _He ran his hand through his hair roughly as if to sweep out the images and feelings that seemed to cause a growing pressure inside of his head. _"What if you choose not to use the power and Wesley dies?" _Images of Wesley in the clutches of the Borg Doctor came back to him in flashes, and his breath grew quicker. He was suddenly covered in sweat, but he felt cold. Inside his mind he could hear Wesley screaming as he was being dragged away by the Borg drones. Unconsciously he picked up his pace as though around the next corner he would find his son. Hearing footsteps behind him he spun around ready to fight.

He froze as two Betazoid men walked by staring at him suspiciously, and he suddenly remembered where he was. Embarrassed, he loosened clenched fists at his side. Waiting for the Betazoids to pass, he walked a little bit further, but inside his mind he could still see Wesley being harmed and crying out for his help.

He spotted a public bathroom and ducked inside. "Excuse me," he murmured as a man and woman exited, staring at him with both suspicion and concern. He supposed that they could read his thoughts. He rushed to a sink and splashed water on his face, but his skin now felt hot as though he had a fever. The bathroom was empty now, but he felt so dizzy he didn't dare step back outside. O'Brien was expecting him to check in within the next five minutes.

He went inside a bathroom stall and shut the door standing with his head down. He had to compose himself. What was happening to him? Some sort of panic attack he supposed. How embarrassing. He tried to think it through calmly, but his mind and body were still in a state of high anxiety. As long as he had this power within him, he would be a draw to anyone who sought it out. And now that he knew Yar had at least seen the light of the Q as a child, apparently many times, how could he be sure that she would not seek it out? What if the power revealed itself to her? What if he had one of his glowing episodes when she was around? Why hadn't Q told him the full truth; the full risk?

_Go._ He tried to tell the power. _Leave me alone._

In answer he felt the wonderful warm feeling envelope him, but now, he feared its presence. _Please go,_ he repeated. The feeling increased as though trying to convince him that it was of benefit to him. But as much as he cared for it, he knew that as long as it was with him, the people he loved were at risk.

"_You killed my son Jean-Luc,"_ he heard Beverly's voice in his mind. "_I will never forgive you. I hate you."_

"_Go!" _he screamed out loud, now frightened of what the future was sure to bring.

He hadn't heard the footsteps outside of the stall. "Is everything alright in there?" a man's voice asked.

Barely coherent he suddenly ripped off his shirt and began scratching at his chest furiously. "Go! Leave me alone! Go!" He continued to scratch at his chest until he had bloodied himself. Finally he collapsed against the wall, exhausted. Tears emerged from his eyes and he let them roll down his face.

"Are you finished?"

Breathing heavily he lifted his head to find Q standing there. He wiped the tears away from his face with his bloody hand. He attempted to straighten his body, but any effort to seem dignified was lost on Q. "Is it gone?" he whispered.

Q glared at him disapprovingly. "For now…yes. I do believe you hurt its feelings, Picard. Do you realize how many mortals would _kill_ for what you just injured yourself to send away?"

Gasping, Picard picked up his shirt. He winced as he pulled it over his head, and it caught on the inflamed skin on his chest. He looked down at his hands which were stained in his own blood. "Yes," he said, pulling the shirt down roughly. "I do realize that. In fact that's why I sent it away."

"And in the most dramatic fashion. Was self-mutilation really necessary?" Q rolled his eyes and leaned back against the bathroom stall. Suddenly he leaned down and peered at the toilet with genuine interest. "What a bizarre piece of machinery," he murmured. After a moment he straightened and frowned at Jean-Luc. "I warned you about the inconsistencies in the timeline didn't I, Picard? You knew the risks of bringing Yar back—"

"But I didn't know that you had done the same thing to her as you did to me as a child. Luring her with a pretty light that fascinated and promised something, an escape from—"

"Spare me the woe is me routine, Jean-Luc. You had all the knowledge of the Q at your disposal when you brought Yar back to the present in this form. A _real_ Q couldn't have done it better. And as for Yar's history, you certainly knew enough that you could have _guessed_."

_Real Q._ Picard pushed Q aside and opened the stall door. Q followed him out as he walked toward a sink to wash his hands. They each ignored the odd expressions on the faces of the bystanders who looked on curiously.

He looked down at his uniform, and saw that the front of it was stained with his own blood which had seeped through making his uniform an even darker red. His wounds stung, but any physical pain he could have inflicted on himself was nothing compared to his anger at his own selfishness and stupidity.

"Besides," added Q. "No one told you to bring her on board your ship. I was beginning to think you had completely lost your—"

Picard grabbed Q by the collar of his fake Starfleet uniform and shook him, pushing him against the mirror. "Mock me all you want to, you bastard, but if she regains the Power, you won't be laughing for long."

The last of the people edged out of the bathroom, still watching the strange pair.

Q broke into a slow smile. "Such emotion! I'm envious, Picard. Truly. But you know your anger at me is misplaced." His voice lowered to a near whisper. "You know I'm your friend, Jean-Luc."

Picard gradually loosened his hold on Q's collar. He glared back at Q, but he knew it was true. Q was his friend.

"I am the _only_ one who understands you anymore—not even Beverly Crusher can possibly know what goes on inside that tortured brain of yours," he said reaching out to tap Picard on the forehead. "Speaking of Beverly Crusher, what do you think she will say about your masochistic little episode?"

Picard looked down. Q was right; Beverly would be shocked and angry if she knew what he had done to himself. And how would he ever explain it? He looked back up at Q imploringly.

Q reached out to touch his chest quickly and the pain went away. He sighed. "Thank you," Picard said, finally letting go of Q's collar. He moved away from him, leaning against the row of sinks. "Will the Power come back?"

Q shrugged. "The Power is your friend, Picard—just as I am. It won't be gone for long, you can bet. And as any good friend, it may return when you most need it."

"Can I convince it to stay away?"

"Why would you want to? Your strange obsession with returning to humanity baffles me, Picard."

"It's not that—I do enjoy having it around…I enjoy its companionship. But I don't want my family and friends to be harmed by it."

"The Power won't harm the people you love Picard. You know that."

"But Yar…what if she—"

"You made your choice, Picard. You brought her on board your ship. What would your excuse be now if you ordered her transfer? The poor thing might be traumatized, and then who _knows _how she would react? Anyway, have you considered that it may be better if she stays on board? You can keep an eye on her progress."

"You have a point," Picard admitted.

"Of course I have. I'll see you later, Jean-Luc. And while I'm gone _try _to keep it together? Au revoir," he said waving his hand before disappearing in a flash.

* * *

_**The Enterprise**_

"I'm worried that the stress of Will's disappearance is going to affect your health, Deanna," Beverly said, checking the blood pressure readings she had just taken on her tricorder. "All I ask is that you rest as much as possible, and talk to someone about how you are feeling."

Deanna made a dissatisfied face. "You mean like a counselor?"

"Yes…like a counselor," Beverly agreed with a small smile. "It would be nice to see you have to take your own advice for once and talk to someone about your feelings."

"Well I am talking to you," Troi said pointedly. "He didn't _disappear_, Beverly; he was stolen away from me. From us," Deanna added looking down at her belly. She reached up to touch her forehead. "I can't believe he's gone."

Beverly gave her friend a small hug and patted her shoulder. "I know. But we're going to find him very soon." She studied the readings a few moments longer and then snapped the tricorder shut. "Your readings look very good under the circumstances," Beverly said. "It is _very_ encouraging," she said patting Deanna on the knee.

Troi nodded and stepped down to the floor carefully. "Before Will left, he was going through a difficult time, Beverly. He'd been drinking…and I wanted him to stop."

Beverly nodded and leaned back against the bio-bed.

"And I know he was out drinking that night—when they took him. I just know that wherever he is right now—he's feeling guilty. And I don't want him to feel guilty, Beverly, I just want him back." Deanna looked away. "You realize how insignificant people's faults are once they go missing from your life. Everything else can be fixed. I just need him here with me."

Beverly took Deanna's hand, wishing that she knew what to say. They both turned around as Seth entered the room.

"Seth, honey, I'm working," Beverly said letting go of Troi's hand. She frowned. "And you should be in school."

"Jean-Luc said I didn't have to go to school today," the boy said, climbing up on a bio bed nearby.

Beverly clenched her jaw, feeling her previous irritation with Jean-Luc return full force. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, he said it was a holiday since you and Wes were returning."

"A holiday," she said trying to keep her frown from turning into a smile. "Really." She turned back to the scan of Troi's body which was on the screen in front of her.

Seth nodded. "Are you mad at Jean-Luc?" He dangled his legs off of the bed, bouncing his feet back and forth.

Beverly stopped what she was doing briefly and glanced back at him. "This is nothing to worry yourself about, Seth. It's not your fault."

Seth looked at her. "But you are mad at him."

She paused, aware that he was just going to keep this up, if she didn't answer him. "Yes."

"Why? Because he forgot to get bigger quarters for all of us?"

Deanna put a gentle hand on Beverly's shoulder. "Um, I think it's best if I go. Unless you need me…."

Beverly smiled at her friend. "I'll see you soon."

Once Deanna had departed she walked over to sit down next to Seth. He turned to look at her with his big brown eyes. "I don't think he forgot, Seth," she said gently.

The boy looked at her quizzically. "Yeah, but you don't think he did it on purpose do you? I mean, that's just the way he is. He's not good at that kind of stuff. He told me the only thing he's good at anymore is being a Captain."

Beverly rolled her eyes and then glanced away. She didn't want to say anything negative about Jean-Luc in front of Seth. The fact was, Seth was right; this was the way Jean-Luc was now that he had returned from the Q. He had never been an outwardly emotional person, but now he often displayed an insensitivity to, or unawareness of the feelings of others. But she knew he was trying.

She sighed and looked down at her hands. "But I'm also mad at myself," she admitted. "Because we didn't communicate well enough so that he understood me and I understood him. You see I never actually told him that I wanted us all to live together. I just expected him to know…and he didn't. Relationships are difficult. When you get old enough you'll understand."

"I can understand it now," Seth said.

She smiled somewhat taken aback at the thoughtful look in his eyes. "Yes...I see that."

Beverly reached out to touch the back of Seth's neck affectionately, and had moved her palm over his skin lightly, when her hand stopped reflexively. She pulled back and looked at the back of his neck. "Hold still," she said softly. His skin looked normal…except—she ran her hand over his neck again. There was a tiny bump, half the size of a pea just under the skin at the base of his neck, and a dot of red on his smooth brown skin showed irritation.

She'd removed his implants. What could this be? Had she missed one? She looked down into Seth's face and put her arm around his shoulder trying not to alarm him or herself. "Honey, has your neck been bothering you lately?"

He reached back to touch his neck. "Kind of. It itches. Is it another implant?"

An irrational fear began to crawl through her body, but she kept her voice steady. "We'll see. I'll need to run some scans," she said.

Seth hopped down from the bio bed. "I feel fine. Can you do it later?"

Beverly hesitated. "First thing tomorrow morning. Before _school_. Okay?" She touched his cheek lightly.

He nodded. "I'm glad you're back," he said.

"Me too."

* * *

_**The Eureka**_

"Starving yourself isn't worth it, Riker. All of those Starfleet prisoner survival protocols don't apply here."

Will lounged in the armchair with his arms crossed, staring straight ahead, but said nothing.

Marco held a plate of food in his hands, which he proceeded to place carefully in front of Riker. "Those protocols don't apply because I don't need you alive, you see?" He slid a large pitcher of ice cold water and a cup in Riker's direction. "The only reason I am feeding you is because I like you." Marco poured some water into the cup.

Riker reached out and picked up the water. His head was pounding with dehydration and his hand shook unsteadily.

Marco smiled. "Go ahead my friend...don't worry, it's not poison."

Will took a sip of the water and then unable to stop himself, he gulped the rest of it down. Grabbing the pitcher he poured himself another cup of water and then another. Now graced with an even worse headache from the cold water, he bowed his head and waited a few minutes, until gradually he felt better. He looked up at Marco. "This is really getting old, Marco."

"I agree." Marco shrugged and walked away. "If you want to see something a little more engaging, come with me," he offered, standing up.

Riker pushed himself to his feet. His legs were cramping up from all of this sitting still. At least this way, he would be able to see the rest of Marco's ship, maybe get an idea for escape.

Walking out into the corridor, Riker was shocked by the sheer size of the ship. Looking up the ceiling and hull in this area were transparent, and he could see the stars above them. It was hard to gauge size inside a ship, but it seemed larger than the Enterprise. Whatever ship he'd been brought here on was merely a shuttle in comparison. They walked for several minutes in silence. He was unbound with no handcuffs, and he considered pouncing on Marco and subduing him, even killing him. But then what? Starfleet would be sending reinforcements wouldn't they?

"Here we are," said Marco, turning to him with that gleaming smile once more before opening the door. The hallway was flooded by the most wonderful light from within the room and Riker walked inside as if compelled. There were hundreds of people and aliens of all species, laughing, conversing, lounging, eating, napping, flirting and more, inside what appeared to be an elaborate holodeck program. He could see for miles in every direction, and the landscape was beautiful. Blue skies gave way to snow-capped mountains far away. He sniffed in the air, and shielded his eyes taking in a sparkling blue lake just steps away. Children swam and played shrieking with the joy of being free. Riker looked sideways at Marco who was staring at him closely. "What kind of program is this, Marco?"

"This is no program, Riker. This is real. Just a taste of where we're headed."

* * *

"This is Captain Picard. All senior staff and Counselor Troi, please report to conference room one immediately." He took his palm off of the intercom pad, and looked down at his uniform. _Shit._ Q had erased the wounds he'd inflicted on himself, but a large half dried blood stain remained. No doubt Q had left it there on purpose to satisfy his warped sense of humor. Oh well, he would have to hope that no one noticed. His uniform was a deep red after all.

He watched as the staff began to file into the conference room. He'd called Troi as well, given her closeness to the situation. He nodded at her as she came into the room. Unfortunately, he hadn't expected her mother to be accompanying her. Troi looked apologetic and mouthed "I'm sorry" to him silently as she and Lwaxana moved to sit down at the table side by side. He was slightly annoyed, but not particularly concerned. Ambassador Troi was a well respected diplomat after all. Perhaps she'd have some tips for negotiating with Riker's captors. He noticed that the expression on Mrs. Troi's face as she regarded him was quite intense and left him slightly unsettled. It was as though she were…judging him somehow. He took a deep breath and looked away.

Beverly entered the room and walked slowly by him without speaking. He allowed himself only a quick look at her from behind as her hips swayed back and forth in that way that he liked. He hoped her chilly demeanor was because she was simply trying to be professional. He leaned forward slightly, expecting her to turn and nod hello to him, but instead she broke into a quick conversation with LaForge instead who was repeating some kind of joke he had heard. He was jealous at the ease with which Geordi was able to relate to Beverly, but he quickly repressed his annoyance. She finally glanced at him and gave him a slight nod. What had he done? He'd only been out of her presence for an hour, and the last time they'd seen each other, of course things couldn't have been better. Yet now she was giving him a bit of a cold shoulder. He wondered if she knew that when she acted that way it was kind of exciting for him.

* * *

Tasha Yar walked into the room and sat down at the Captain's right hand side. She glanced around the table at all of the new faces. The only senior staff member she'd met so far was Commander Data, who was...interesting, if you found robots interesting. Granted she recognized he was a very unique robot, but still….She'd spent most of her time so far meeting with her security teams. Most of them needed intense re-training, especially in hand to hand combat. She wasn't disappointed, because she thrived on a challenge. She only wished she had the time to whip them into shape before they met their first major challenge.

She continued glancing around the table. She knew everyone's names and faces from their personnel files. LaForge was a brilliant engineer—recently divorced according to his security file. She decided he was cute in a geeky way, but not her type, although no one was her type for long, she admitted.

The Vulcan science officer entered shortly with perfectly efficient yet graceful steps, and sat down across from LaForge. Yar shifted. She would have to be careful with that one. Lt. Commander Sanorra was physically attractive and withholding, and also gave the impression of thinking she was superior to everyone else there. That kind of persona was both magnetic and irritating to Yar.

Her eyes fell on Counselor Troi and an older woman who was chattering away about something irrelevant to why they were there. She shrugged internally. As long as the woman wasn't a security risk, she didn't care. Counselor Troi on the other hand needed to be kept out of the action and decision-making as much as possible. The Captain couldn't have the emotionally compromised spouse of Riker clouding everyone's judgment about what needed to be done.

Data had entered and sat next to Doctor Beverly Crusher. Yar studied the woman. She was very attractive. She was also known to be a highly respected doctor, and as everyone now knew was the mother of Captain Picard's son, Wesley Crusher, who was reputedly some kind of genius. She hadn't met the kid yet, but there was no room for teenage boys with raging hormones on the bridge of a ship. She hoped it didn't become an issue. In any case, she was slightly concerned about Crusher's involvement with the Captain, but as long as their personal relationship didn't compromise Captain Picard's safety, Yar would stay out of it. She noticed that Crusher had looked at her only once—and the look had not been friendly. Strange, since she didn't know the woman personally at all. But that was fine, for Yar was quite accustomed to being an outsider.

They were all considered to be the best Starfleet had to offer. She would have to wait and see before cementing her own opinions on the matter. Her main concern was their loyalty to Captain Picard. This was paramount to her, as his safety and well-being were her concern and responsibility.

She glanced at the Captain. He was very stoic, and controlled, as expected, but appeared younger than she had anticipated. The rumors surrounding his sudden reappearance after eleven years still bothered her. She wanted to know more. Rumors about him having been taken prisoner by an alien race made her want to ask him how he had survived alone that whole time. She wanted to learn from him. She saw him glance at her and she looked away, respectfully. She already admired him professionally, but she reminded herself that she was adept at burying any personal feelings she knew could arise while on duty when one was not careful enough.

She glanced at him again and this time her eyes fell on the front of his uniform. Her eyes widened. He was covered in blood. He'd just returned from Betazed, and hadn't checked in with her before starting the meeting. She stood up swiftly. "Captain," she said leaning over him with concern. "Captain, you're bleeding, sir. What happened?" She put her hand on his shoulder.

Down the table, Beverly stood up, pushing her chair out quickly. "Don't you touch him!"

* * *

**Happy Mother's Day. My mother is the reason why from a young age, I learned to love reading and writing as much as I do. I learned to read by reading "The Hobbit" to her at night. She would read some and then I would read some. Anyway, I must have had a monotone because she often fell asleep listening to me read. **

**Thank you again for reading and for all of your reviews. Although I have a graph on my site that shows me that many people are clicking on my stories each day, reviews or follows help me to know that people are actually interested and engaged in the story. I have seen other writers practically beg or berate their readers into reviewing in exchange for posting faster. I'm not into that. Generally I post fast or slow based on the way my brain is working, but also because I do write for the audience-you, and I know some are waiting for an update. However, if I only have a few follows on a story, it's difficult for me to gauge how the story is doing with the readers, and frankly I can lose motivation like anyone else. As always I appreciate your support and readership. Best wishes for a kick-ass week. -PP**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

_**The Enterprise**_

Picard felt his entire body tense up as it became painfully clear to him why Beverly had been acting so strangely. Of course, she had been managing the stress of preparing to meet Yar again; staring at holos of the woman's face off and on for weeks so as not to be shocked when she saw her again. And now faced with the actual Yar Beverly had still reacted anxiously to say the least. And of course he hadn't had the time to change his damned uniform, which must have only increased her anxiety. He warmed at the thought of her concern for him. As a Q he had become so used to not caring about others, and believing that no one cared about him, that he still marveled at the fact that she really loved him. But right now, her face appeared more dangerous than loving.

Making a quick decision as to which woman to placate first, he glanced up at Yar. The young woman's expression appeared genuinely concerned and was now tense. "It's alright, Lieutenant. I had a slight mishap down on Betazed,-"

"Mishap?" Beverly glared at Jean-Luc and then at Yar who was still standing over Picard. Yar glared back at her and then waited for the Captain to finish.

"I am quite well I assure you," he continued in his most diplomatic voice. "And you as well, Doctor." He saw her forehead twitch in irritation and the effort of holding back what she really wanted to say. He was quite thankful that they were having this conversation in public. "I am fine," he insisted. "Please sit down, both of you."

* * *

Yar looked at the faces around the table and she suddenly realized the source of the strange feeling she had been having. Not exactly _deja vu_, but something else. They were watching her, waiting for her to act a certain way. Somehow these strangers all seemed to think they knew her. She shrugged mentally. Maybe they knew she was from Turkana and were prejudiced. Who knows? If they expected her to be a hot head, she would simply behave in the opposite manner. She had faced these kinds of prejudices before and knew how to manage herself. Absently she placed her hand on her uniform, and felt the key that hung around her neck.

The Captain was now calmly telling her to sit down. She nodded. "Yes sir," she said mirroring his calm and sat back down in her chair. She was careful to keep her facial expression very measured, still aware of Doctor Crusher's eyes boring into the side of her head. She didn't entirely mind the drawing of boundaries-Gilda Stern had raised her to respect boundaries after years of not having any. If the Doctor wanted to make it clear that she was the alpha female, well alright. The problem was, Yar could read people, was familiar with the doctor's professional profile, and by all accounts Crusher was not the aggressive type; assertive, yes, but not by any means a loose cannon. But Crusher outranked her even if she would not have to report to her directly. So she chose to respectfully avert her gaze for now.

* * *

Beverly stood her ground, but once Yar had seated herself again, she realized that it served no purpose to press him with questions as to his health. Still, why had he returned from Betazed looking as though he had been in a fight? She didn't like to be kept in the dark; she wouldn't be disrespected by him whether he meant it or not. "I'd like you to report to sickbay later, Captain. Just to confirm that you're 'fine'," she said stiffly.

He nodded but said nothing.

She didn't care if she had looked a little crazy a moment ago. The rest of the crew would understand her reaction, even if Yar didn't. She hadn't intended to make a scene, but Yar had been so close to touching him, that she had simply reacted. She could see now that Yar hadn't meant any harm. She had just been protecting him, but she had to admit she hadn't trusted Yar around Jean-Luc before, and with good reason. Prior to revealing her intention to steal back the power of the Q, Yar had tried to seduce Jean-Luc on more than one occasion; and he hadn't exactly been resistant. _This is not the same Yar, and he's come a long way_, she told herself, and not for the first time. But doubt still nagged at her mind.

* * *

Data leaned forward staring curiously at Mrs. Troi. "Ambassador Troi, are you alright?"

Lwaxana Troi was holding her hands over her ears in a very alarming and dramatic fashion. Her eyes were shut tightly.

_Deanna, you failed to mention how much extra noise would be in this room. Everyone except for the android is sexually frustrated—well he may be, but I can't be expected to read positronic minds…even worse is the anger and fear they are just tossing into the air, all directed at that poor girl—_

_Mother! I asked you to come to the meeting to read __**Yar's**__ mind not the rest of the crew's reaction to her. Of course they are angry, and of course they are afraid._

_But of her? Well, she's just a gorgeous girl, and really clearly very complicated—_

_Oh very. Now what is she thinking, Mother?_

_She's…she's a wall…she's even more difficult to read than Captain Picard. She has a sense of control that she is unwilling to drop for anyone. She has an innocence on one hand and on the other…too many dark secrets from her past. In fact, let's not dig too deep, Little One. Some minds are better left unexplored._

* * *

_**The Eureka**_

Riker's eyes fluttered open in the dark. He couldn't see a thing and he also couldn't remember how he had gotten here; not that he was really sure where 'here' was. He knew he was here on the Eureka, Marco's immense ship, but he was in a new room, with no guards. The thing was he felt wonderful, more wonderful than he had felt in months in fact. He was lying on some kind of soft material that was cool yet comforting against his skin.

He shut his eyes again and dimly tried to remember the last thing he had experienced. He'd been on the shore of a deep blue lake. The woman had been laughing and singing in an unfamiliar language. "But wait until you see me dance," she had said seductively. "We are known best for our dancing."

"I'd like that," he had said, and she had reached out to take his hand. After that everything had been a blur.

Suddenly his heart sunk with the knowledge that something was very wrong. He had committed an awful transgression, but simply couldn't complete the thought. What had he done? He still felt good physically, but his mind was murky. "Why do I feel this way?" he said aloud in the darkness.

"The disorientation will pass," said a musical voice close to his ear. "And then you will come to understand, Will Riker." Will jumped out of bed, holding the sheet around himself, peering down at the intruder.

"Lights," said the voice calmly. The light in the room increased enough for him to see that the woman from the sunlit beach was here with him. She was Orion, which explained the memory of her dancing.

"Oh—oh no," he stammered, running his hand over his face and staring at her in shock. "Who are you? Where's Marco? What did we just do? Wait! Wait, I don't want to know what we did," he added quickly. _I'm married, I'm married with a baby on the way…what did I do?_

"I am Samla," said the beautiful green-skinned woman. "And you are no longer Marco's prisoner. This is good, because he did not want to have to kill you."

"What are you talking about?" he asked still looking around for his clothes.

"You are one of us now, Riker," said Samla confidently. "You have chosen to travel to Eternity with us, and there is no going back now."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

**On Board the**_** Death's Talon**_

"Time to intercept," demanded TuVol from his command throne.

His first officer Klo whirled around. "Two hours, Commander."

Commander TuVol smiled. It had been his decision to cut through Klingon territory into the heart of the Beta Quadrant. He was certain that Marco had the Jewel of Power in his possession. And when he found Marco he would strangle him to death with one hand in order to get it. Humans were so weak, and Marco was no exception.

That Marco was a charismatic human was of no consequence to TuVol. For TuVol was a Reman, former enslaved member of a race subjugated by the ruling Romulans. But once he had the legendary Jewel in his possession, his people would rise up from the sunless dilithium mines of Remus, and slaughter the Romulan oppressors.

* * *

_**Enterprise**_

He was developing a plan to recapture Riker, but now that his crew had been briefed and he was off duty for a few hours, he recognized that he needed to attend to his personal problems. So he was headed back to his quarters, where he planned on making Beverly, Wesley and Seth a nice dinner. Picard turned at the sound of quick footsteps behind him.

"I thought I ordered you to report to sickbay, Captain!" Beverly nearly slammed into him she was walking so fast. She stopped abruptly as he turned to face her.

"I was hoping you had forgotten," he said honestly. "Besides, I'm perfectly fine now as you can see..." He spread his arms widely and smiled. His smile faded when he saw that she was still upset with him.

She raised her index finger as though she was going to poke him in the chest, but a crew member passed. Instead, she folded her arms over her chest and lowered her voice. "You are _infuriating_. You changed your uniform, Jean-Luc. That doesn't explain why you beamed up from Betazed looking as though you'd gone a few rounds with someone."

"You should have seen my opponent," he said, having no trouble recalling that his 'opponent' had been him.

"Is that supposed to be funny? I'm not in the mood for jokes, Jean-Luc. When I left you down on that planet you were perfectly fine—in every sense of that word. So what happened?"

Her mention of their encounter earlier that day, gave him hope and he leaned in closer. She merely watched him as he cleared his throat and softened his tone. "I _was_ heading back to my quarters…perhaps I could make it up to you."

"I'm not in the mood for _that_ either Jean-Luc," she snapped. "Not until you tell me the truth..."

He stared at her silently. He didn't want to discuss this right now, because he didn't know quite how to explain it all to her without making the situation worse. So he just continued to stand there.

"I have work to do, Captain so I'll be in sickbay." Now angry, she turned on her heel and stormed away.

"I hope you're in the mood for something to eat, because dinner is at seven," he called after her hopefully. But she kept walking.

* * *

_**The Eureka**_

"These are your new clothes," Samla told him, handing him a bundle. "If you wish to wear a covering for your skin," the Orion woman added with a smirk.

"I can see clothes aren't exactly a priority for you, Samla," Riker said, taking the clothes from her. She shook her head slowly. "And I realize I just really gave you the wrong impression by sleeping with you. But, I'm married," he added.

She laughed. "And I was once the personal property of an Orion kingpin. But now I am free, thanks to Marco. You can be free too."

Riker shook his head, as though trying to clear it. "You don't get it. I don't want to be free from Deanna, I love her."

"Then let her come along with us. You'll come to see Marco's plan soon enough," Samla assured him.

He shook his head again but began to dress, feeling so incredibly calm. He should be trying to escape. But he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore. And the sudden change in thinking should have really thrown him. But it didn't.

* * *

After he had dressed, Samla led him down the long main corridor and in to an immense room which he saw was a library of some kind. Riker looked down at the shiny stone floor as his soft shoes made a pleasant flapping sound.

"Welcome to my archives, Riker," Marco said, his voice echoing from the center of the room.

"Why are you showing me this?" Riker staggered slightly and then leaned against a very tall set of bookshelves to support himself.

"I couldn't trust you earlier, because you didn't trust me—not after what I had to do in order to capture you. I had to make sure you were receptive, Riker."

Will leaned into the bookshelf. His whole body felt heavy, but inside of his mind he could gradually feel things beginning to sort out.

"Receptive?"

Marco studied him closely. "Don't worry, as I'm sure Samla told you the disorientation will pass eventually. Soon the effect will begin to take hold."

"What effect will take hold? Have you drugged me?"

"No," said Marco. "I am afraid what you have is much longer lasting, Riker." He smiled, and then turned back to what he had been staring at. He took a few steps away and Riker now saw that Marco was standing inside a huge floating star map.

He reached up to touch one of the pinpoints of light. "As you might have guessed, we're inside the Beta Quadrant, which as you know still has many unexplored little corners, Will." He turned back around and fixed Riker with a curious stare. "You don't mind if I call you Will, now do you." It sounded more like a declaration than a question.

For some reason, Riker now felt compelled to answer "No…I don't mind."

"Good," Marco said, turning back around. "A long time ago, Riker, when I was just a kid, I encountered a magnificent treasure."

Riker walked forward. Something within him was telling him that Marco was being truthful. "What kind of treasure."

Marco's eyes glinted. "A beautiful treasure. I hid it away, inside something which I thought would always be in my possession. But that possession was stolen away from me Will. I can tell by the look on your face that you understand me."

Will nodded. "But what have you done to me? Why do I feel this way?" he asked.

"The means I use don't matter—it is the wonderful end that I seek. The most important thing is that you will begin to see things my way, Will. And if you are loyal, I will grant you eternal life."

_Eternal life._ Marco's words echoed through his mind. It wasn't something he had ever wanted before. But now he felt differently.

"How—how could you do that? You're just human, like me."

"Have you ever heard of the Fountain of Youth?"

Riker nodded and walked closer looking up into the map. "An old Earth myth."

"It's no myth, Will…but the fountain didn't originate on Earth. It's here," he said reaching up and touching the same point he had before. In this star system deep inside the Beta Quadrant—beyond Orion territory."

Riker followed the man's gaze. "Virtually unexplored by Starfleet," he murmured.

"That's correct."

"So what good am I to you?" Riker asked, perplexed.

"You've already served my purpose. The _Enterprise_ is on its way," said Marco. "And once it arrives to try and recapture you, I will reclaim what's mine."

Marco's smiled faded and he quickly paced away. "But we do have a sight problem, Will."

"Captain Picard?"

Marco smiled. "No. There are others…dangerous types who don't like me so much. You see they know about my property and want to take it from me. They want the potential power it possesses, Will. And if they get to the _Enterprise_ before we do, there could be trouble."

"So why don't you just go after the _Enterprise_?" Riker asked.

Marco shook his head. "No, it has to be done a certain way. My way. Will you help me? Will you do as I say?"

Something inside him compelled Riker to nod his assent. "But…Deanna. I mean I have a wife, and I love her. She's going to have a baby." More and more he found it difficult to speak for his own interests, as though many more voices were crying out for him to agree with Marco, and to follow him. He swept his hand over his eyes. Why had his desire to escape the ship now left him?

Marco shut off the map and now it was just the two of them. Riker could see that Samla had slunk out of the room unnoticed.

"Deanna and your child are quite welcome on the journey with us Will. But if she tries to interfere with my plans, you must know that she will suffer very dire consequences. Do you understand?"

Riker smiled easily then, suddenly a changed man. "Yes."

* * *

**_The Enterprise_**

His quarters were dark. And he hadn't expected Wesley to be there.

"Where's Seth?" he asked.

"He's on the holodeck walking Marca," said Wesley, not bothering to look up. "She wouldn't stop barking at me when I walked in the door this afternoon."

"Oh." Picard hesitated at the door. "She'll get used to you again, you got along so well before." _Before_. He tried to remember how he had managed to successfully interact with his son before, when all of that turmoil had been happening. Then he remembered Beverly telling him to "just talk" to Wesley, and that she was concerned about him.

He approached quietly and sat down next to Wesley, folding his hands in front of him on the table. "Hello," said Jean Luc, thinking that might be a decent start.

Wesley still didn't look up from the point on the table he was staring at. "Hi."

Picard tapped his fingers on the table top. "So..." He ventured after a few more moments of silence.

Wesley glanced up at him and then activated his data pad silently.

Picard leaned down to peer at a spinning diagram on the screen. "What is that you're studying, Wesley?"

"It's a schematic of a phase coil. Geordi asked me to take a look at it and see if we can improve site to site transporter function around the ship."

"Oh, well I recall an engineering symposium I attended when I was in –well it was some years ago. And-"

Wesley tensed his shoulders visibly and shifted in his seat. "Just stop..." He murmured under his breath and then froze looking petrified.

"Hmm?" Picard straightened and looked at his son. "Stop what?"

"Nothing, sir," Wesley said.

"Wesley...what we're you going to say?"

Wesley put down the data pad and looked at him for the first time. "Could you just stop trying so hard?"

"What do you mean? It's no effort to talk to you. You're my son, after all."

"Yeah, but you don't like engineering, or astrophysics or anything like that...it doesn't interest you. You don't have to pretend sir."

Picard sighed and stared across the room. He was silent for a few more minutes, as Wesley studied his project. "Did I ever tell you about the time I stood in the center of a red dwarf star?"

"Holy sh—I mean, _what_? You mean when you were with the Q?"

Picard smiled and nodded. "It's the most common type of star, but how many people have ever had the chance to stand inside the core of one?"

Wesley laughed. "No one. Until you," he said with open admiration. Any awkwardness between them was gone for the moment. "So what was it like?"

The both looked up when the doors opened and Seth and Marca walked in. "Hey," Seth said.

Picard waved him over exuberantly. "Let me tell you both about the star. Then you can help me make dinner."

* * *

_**The Death's Talon**_

The Reman religion had foreseen such an event. Little did the Romulans know that TuVol had located the source of a magnificent power that would be their undoing. And TuVol would be the one wielding that power. Once he wrested it from Marco's grasp. But now the rumor was, that Marco no longer had possession of the Jewel.

"We've picked up the signature again," Klo shouted. "But it's not with Marco…it's on a Federation ship. They are on a course for Orion territory as well My Lord."

"Very good," Tu'Vol rasped, slammed his spiky fist down on the arm of his chair. "Initiate the cloaking device and fall into pursuit. Once in range, we will engage a surprise attack. I have never had the pleasure of killing a human before."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

**The Planet Ferenginar**

"Grand Nagus, I ask for your esteemed blessing," Val said, bowing his head before approaching the Nagus seated in his ornate chair.

"And you beg for my money. Tell me, what goes through the mind of a non-entity like yourself before coming to see the Grand Nagus, Val? You aren't even a Daimon."

Val rubbed his hands together. "But with your support, Grand Nagus, I will bring to the deserving few, eternal life, and as a beautiful consequence, eternal wealth."

The Nagus leaned forward, flapping his wrinkled lobes at the young Ferengi. "What are you talking about?"

"In my travels as one of our most successful arms dealers, Grand Nagus, I have encountered a human named Marco. He used to be a member of the Orion Syndicate."

The Nagus sneered. "Humans? They don't even want wealth, you fool. And you're listening to a Human? Fool…."

"Our old beliefs state that once we die we can bid for a new life at the Gates of the Divine Treasury, Grand Nagus."

"I'm familiar with religion, Val…although I don't put too much stock in such things."

"But, I tell you, your Excellency, that this human has found a way to access these riches without dying first."

"And what makes you think he would give you such a treasure?"

Val grinned. "I think I can make a deal with him. And then…eternal wealth will be ours."

The Nagus rubbed the bottom of his giant earlobe. "What do you want?"

Val shrugged. "Just a ship."

"You'll have the ship, now let us talk terms."

* * *

_**The Enterprise**_

"Yellow alert," the ship's computer droned**. **"Intruder on the bridge."

"This is Lieutenant Yar," Yar said hitting the intercom. "Code blue…send two security teams to the bridge immediately."

"Helm, report," she snapped.

"Enemy ships incoming."

"Raise shields, initiate evasive maneuver, Code Yar alpha one."

"Aye sir."

She glanced out of the corner of her eye, not unsettled in the least by Commander Data standing still nearby.

"The enemy is firing," reported Lt. Commander Sonarra calmly.

"Direct hit," shouted the helm.

"Shield strength is at seventy percent," said Sonarra.

"Divert power to the forward shield emitter," ordered Yar. Just then the turbo lift doors opened and the security personnel rushed in.

"End program," Data said, standing with his hands still draped behind his back. The yellow glow on the bridge lifted abruptly and the lights returned to normal.

* * *

Yar spun around to face the security officers. "That was _four_ seconds slower than the last time," she snapped. "There was an intruder on the bridge. The Captain could have been killed because of your delay."

"I'm sorry, sir—"

"I don't want excuses, I want better results," she snapped.

The officer straightened at attention.

"Now we are going to do this again, and this time, I expect—"

"Lieutenant, might I speak with you for a moment?" Data interrupted, stepping forward.

Yar stopped in mid-sentence, and turned to look at Data with apparent surprise. "Yes, of course, sir," she said stepping away from her officers.

"Lieutenant," Data said, lowering his voice slightly in order to be discreet. "You have run this training scenario eight times over the last hour. The crew _is_ operating within acceptable parameters."

Yar shook her head. "Sir I know we can do better. If we are to recapture Commander Riker, we've all got to do better than just acceptable."

Data nodded almost imperceptibly. "Agreed."

Yar nodded curtly and started to turn away.

"Lieutenant Yar," said Data firmly. "I agree with you that the crew could likely improve its performance, however I cannot agree to any further training programs at this time. We have other business to complete."

Yar clenched her jaw, but straightened looking straight ahead. "Aye sir."

"You were scheduled to be off duty an hour ago, Lieutenant. Have you not considered that your own performance would improve if you were not fatigued?"

Yar stepped forward now with sudden intensity. "Sir, I don't get fatigued—not as long as I have my focus. Permission to remain on the bridge, sir…."

Data shook his head. "I am afraid not…you are dismissed, Lieutenant."

Yar clenched her fists at her sides for a few more moments, before something in her fiery gaze cooled slightly. "Yes, sir." She walked quickly away and into the turbo lift.

* * *

To Yar's consternation, Commander Sonarra followed behind her.

Did she have to take this turbo lift? Yar stared at the lift wall, angrily. "Deck 10," she said.

Commander Sonarra turned to her with a curious expression. "It so happens that I am going to Deck 10 as well, Lieutenant."

"That's nice," Yar said in a voice that made clear she didn't like coincidences.

"I am going to Ten Forward," said the Science Officer. "Would you like to join me?" she asked.

"No," said Yar bluntly. "I'm going to find a holodeck and get some exercise in before I can go on shift again," she said. She couldn't wait to fight an imaginary opponent, or several. She had a lot of negative energy to expend. Something about Commander Data's quiet insistence that she leave the bridge had really pissed her off, and she couldn't pinpoint why. He hadn't meant any harm. He was an android after all. She tried to tell herself to calm down, but she didn't appreciate the way he had undercut her in front of her subordinates. They had been four seconds slower, damn them, and they needed to know it just wasn't good enough.

"Most officers who had been on duty for thirteen hours straight would welcome a two hour break," observed Sonarra.

"Most officers aren't me," Yar said confidently.

"That much is clear," said Sonarra. She turned to Yar. "I am the Ship's Counselor," she said. "In addition to my science duties on the bridge."

Yar eyed her without speaking, not sure where this was specifically headed, but not liking the general direction. This woman was her superior in rank, and she had to be careful with her temper.

"I have been observing you, Lieutenant—"

"You've been observing me?" Yar was now smiling, but was not amused by this revelation.

"Yes. And you may have an undiagnosed personality disorder…perhaps post-traumatic stress disorder as well," said Sonarra in her characteristic straightforward manner.

"Are you offering your services?" Yar asked coldly.

"I am," said the Vulcan.

Yar pointed at herself. "Your observations may be correct, _sir_…but this, all of this, is the way I am. I don't change. And I like it that way. So I strongly recommend that you stop your observations of me. You might not like what you find." The doors opened and she stormed off the lift without another word.

* * *

"Dinner is at seven," Beverly muttered, staring at the scan on her wall monitor. "He thinks he can resolve everything by feeding me, well, we'll see about that. This had better be a damn good dinner," she touched the wall making the scan larger. The fact was his ploy probably would work. She loved to eat, and he knew it. As if on cue, her stomach growled. She sighed. It wasn't practical for her to go on a hunger strike; so instead she would just try and communicate with him.

They had been away from each other for years, then together—sort of- just a few months- and then apart again for the last few months. They had been in love for years and never learned to communicate. In fact what they understood best was how _not_ to communicate, as they had hidden their feelings for so long. Although...sometimes she wondered if he had held any feelings for her at all while he was a Q, or had he only loved himself-or nothing at all?

She tried not to dwell on such questions as they didn't really matter anymore. What mattered was the here and now. And the here and now was highly confusing. In one moment he made her feel so excited for the future and in the next he was closing her out and keeping secrets. Sometimes that hurt, but it only made her stubbornly want to try harder to make things better between them. She knew it was a process, but with his return from the Q continuum they had been given a second chance by fate, and she wasn't going to give up.

But with his new...eccentricities for lack of a better word, he was sometimes more of an enigma than he had ever been. There was some carelessness about him now that hadn't been there before; those Q-like aspects, which were now interspersed with his usual seriousness. On the bridge and on duty he was more or less the same; but elsewhere he was unpredictable, difficult, moody, thoroughly amusing, and at times just plain weird. He was learning to be Human again, and at times he was not unlike a teenager; a teenager who had recently been equipped with super human powers and nearly omniscient intellectual capabilities. To some extent she feared the fact that the Q power was still hanging around him. As much as she knew it was a source of comfort to him-even an odd friendship she couldn't quite comprehend, she was not able to drive from her mind the horrible events from just months ago. When Tasha Yar had tried to lay waste to everything around her just to obtain what Jean Luc had. And then to Beverly's dismay after defeating Yar cleverly and bringing her back, in order to give her a chance to redeem herself, he had decided to accept her request to transfer to the Enterprise.

She would never understand why he had done it. What would have been the harm of making up some reason to deny the request? It seemed to her to be an egotistical and risky choice that the pre-Q Jean Luc would never have made. He had always believed that he knew best, but something about being with the Q all of those years had cemented that confidence into occasional arrogance. She had challenged him on it; of course it was her job to do so...to protect her sons from whatever dangers lay ahead. She knew that he too would do whatever was needed to protect Wesley and Seth, but why make the job harder?

Happily the sex was very good. She had gone so many years not really enjoying sex with Jack, that she had forgotten the benefit of a healthy physical relationship. She had to admit that in that way she and Jean-Luc were more than compatible. She flushed, remembering their last encounter. She was beginning to grow annoyed with herself that she couldn't seem to stay angry at him, when he more than deserved her anger. But then she closed her eyes momentarily and was rushed back to that wonderful feeling….

With all of her concerted effort, she shrugged off these distracting thoughts she traced her hand along the outline of the body scan. It was Seth's most recent scan after his last implants had been removed just several months ago. Despite her professional capacity to compartmentalize her emotions and worry when it came to illness and injury, she'd never forget her revulsion at first pulling Seth out of that strange incubation chamber on the Borg planet.

And each time she had to perform a surgery to remove another of the implants she found that instead of becoming callous to the procedure she was struck by his courage and calmness in the face of what he had been through. And she found that she began not just to care for him, but to love him as though he were her own son. She studied the area of the scan at the base of his neck, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. But there hadn't been any visible implants there—perhaps that is why she had missed the strange bump on his neck. But increasingly she believed that the tiny bump had developed in the few months since she last treated him.

She thought about the guardianship record Jean-Luc kept in his quarters after receiving it from Starfleet Medical on Earth. According to the record, his father was human, and his mother was an "unknown species". Seth looked human enough, but something about him was certainly different, although she hadn't known him before his mother had been murdered in front of him on the Marca II colony by Borg drones—before he himself had been kidnapped and assimilated by the Borg.

Her scans of his internal anatomy showed possible variations from the human form, but she had been so busy doing multiple surgeries she hadn't thought to test his genetic makeup. And maybe at the time, it hadn't mattered to her. But what if this was an illness specific to his species, or was some kind of genetic mutation? She took a deep breath and massaged the back of her neck. Whatever it was, it could wait until tomorrow morning, she told herself.

* * *

He met her at the door of his quarters. Music was playing; some kind of 20th century jazz, Will Riker had procured for him somewhere.

"Jean-Luc, we really need to talk."

He smiled. "But surely you'd like something to eat first, Beverly. You've said before that nothing soothes your irritation more than a good meal—"

She brought her index finger to his lips. "Jean-Luc, because I appreciate that you and the boys made me dinner, I'm declaring a truce. So you can stop trying to ply me with food, alright? I'll eat your wonderful meal, and then we'll talk about our issues. Alright?" she said smiling sweetly now.

His face fell. "Okay," he said. She was still annoyed with him, and as a result he found he too was annoyed. "What issues?"

_Truce, Beverly_, she reminded herself. "What issues?" she repeated, looking at him closely. Was he pulling her leg? No, he was totally serious. "How about our living arrangements, Jean-Luc? How about those issues?"

His brow furrowed. "Living arrangements?"

_Stupid truce._ She raised her hands in front of her. "You see? That is _exactly_ what I mean when I say 'issues'. You just don't seem to get it that—"

"Mom," Wesley called out suddenly, deliberately trying to divert her attention. "Dinner is ready."

* * *

"This is delicious," Beverly admitted. "I can really feel the love coming through this meal," she mumbled through a mouthful of potato.

"The Captain wanted us to put all of your favorite foods out for you, but we wanted it to fit all on one table…so that wasn't possible, but we tried our best," Wesley said with a smile. He was in a better mood than he had been before the Captain had begun to recount some stories from his experiences as a Q. Having everyone together again felt really good, actually.

Beverly stopped eating momentarily at the sound of sloppy chomping from beneath the table. She leaned over. "Does she have to do that here?"

"She likes to eat with us," Seth said, glancing under the table at the dog, Marca. Marca had grown so big that she barely fit underneath the table lying down.

"Right," Beverly said, resuming her feast, as the dog leaned against her ankles. She glanced down the table at Jean-Luc. He was wearing his reading glasses, which of course he didn't need and wore only for affect. Once he had learned that she found them attractive, she noticed he pulled them out strategically, as if playing some kind of high card. But right now he was studying a tiny floating star map. His hand rested on the stem of a half empty root beer float. A single raw carrot lay on his plate. Apparently he wasn't eating what they were eating.

"Jean-Luc, can you put your work away?"

"Hmm?" he looked up, over his glasses at her. "I'm studying these Orion trade routes…."

She tried not to smile. "I know. But could you put your work away while we eat?"

He nodded, and shut down the hologram. "Of course. I didn't intend to be rude." He sat back in his chair, looking mostly pleased with himself. "How is everything?" he asked taking his glasses off.

"Great," she said. "The salad is delicious. Aren't you eating anything besides that root beer float?"

Picard glanced at Seth and Wesley and then back at Beverly. He gestured down at his plate. "And this carrot," he said. "I'm also eating a carrot." For emphasis, he picked it up and took a loud crunching bite out of it, before placing it back on his plate.

Wesley suddenly snorted with laughter. "Is that supposed to be healthy or something?"

Picard scratched the top of his head. "Yes…."

Seth's eyes narrowed and he began to laugh too, covering his mouth to prevent food from falling out of it. "Is that how you used to eat when you were a Q?"

Picard leaned back in his chair and sighed, feeling outnumbered. "I didn't eat while I was a Q. There was no need," he added.

"Yes, but now there is a need, Jean-Luc," Beverly said. "You need food to survive. Is this how you've been eating while I've been gone?"

"Maybe a little," he murmured, glancing sharply at Seth, hoping the boy would keep quiet as to the number of floats he was drinking each day.

Beverly shook her head, but then stared at Seth, who was now oddly poking a baked potato with a small stick. "Seth, what are you doing?"

"Jean-Luc makes me use chopsticks to eat unless I'm eating soup," said Seth, finally spearing the potato and carefully lifting it into the air before lowering it onto his plate. "He says it improves my hand eye coordination and mental acruitty."

"Acuity," corrected Jean-Luc, from down the table. "Mental acuity."

Beverly briefly put her forehead into her hand. "What?"

"He's right," said Wesley. "It takes more skill and concentration to use chopsticks than a fork."

Beverly placed her own fork down on her plate. "But he's only using one chopstick," she said. "To eat a potato! How is this more intelligent?" She looked around the table as though she were the only sane person left.

"He's at an advanced level now," said Picard looking rather proud. "Surely one chopstick is more impressive than two."

Beverly muttered something under her breath, but returned to eating the rest of her fish and vegetables. She glanced up again at Jean-Luc. She hadn't noticed before that he had cut his hair. "You're hair looks good," she said. "In fact you look very handsome. Should I compliment Mr. Mot?"

"No, but you can compliment me," said Seth. "I cut it for him."

"Jean-Luc, you let Seth cut your hair?"

"You said yourself he did a good job, Beverly. Besides, the boy's got wonderful hand-eye coordination," Jean-Luc said stubbornly.

"Did you use one chopstick or two?" Wesley laughed, shoving Seth playfully.

"I used scissors, and a razor," Seth said seriously.

Wesley laughed and leaned his elbow on Seth's shoulder. "I know, I'm just kidding, man." Seth broke into a slow smile.

They all fell silent for a few more minutes. Will's jazz played softly in the background.

"I'm an alien," Seth blurted out suddenly.

Beverly's eyes widened slightly and she put her water glass down. She thought back to the debate she had been having with herself in sickbay. "What do you mean, Seth?"

Picard looked at him too. "Do you mean you _feel_ like an alien?" Because he could relate to that feeling.

"No. I am one. Like Guinan. She said I was like her."

"Seth, maybe she meant you were a good listener, like her," Wesley suggested.

Seth shook his head from side to side. "Nope. She knew my mom when she was younger. They were friends. I'm half El-Aurian. Isn't that cool?"

Wesley looked at his parents and then back at Seth. "Yeah…it really is. Right?" he looked back at his parents. They merely nodded, but appeared to still be thinking things through. Wesley shrugged and got up from his seat. "Seth, would you help me clean up?"

Suddenly the ship shuddered under foot, and Wesley staggered, grabbing for the table. "Red alert, Red alert…" announced the computer.

"_Data to Captain Picard. Captain, report to the bridge, we are taking on enemy fire."  
_

* * *

_**Hi thanks for reading and reviewing as always. Peace out. -PP**  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

**The Klingon Home world Qo'nos S****ix hours ago...**

"The Romulans have refused to take responsibility for this attack on our people."

"Of course they have," the chancellor replied evenly.  
Chancellor K'mpec studied the tall officer in front of him. The chancellor had been strong once a long time ago-but he'd never been tall. Just one of many regrets. The young officer standing in front of him was bound to go a long way, as long as he eventually learned to pick his battles, that is. And so far, he was apparently still learning that lesson. "And for once the Romulans are telling the truth, Commander Worf."

"The invading ship _was _a modified older version of a Romulan scout ship," Worf agreed. "The ship's weapons appeared to be comprised of weaponized mining equipment. Too unorthodox and crude to be sanctioned by the Romulan High Command. However, the weapons used were... effective."

Kmpec smiled and picked at a bowl of dark red tree serpent eggs balanced on his armrest. They were raw and slightly rotten; just as he liked him. Why oh why couldn't this young Klingon go away and leave him to eat in peace? "Worf, why did you come here today?"

"That rogue ship has killed Klingons, Chancellor. It must be stopped."

"_Prisoners_, Worf…that rogue ship destroyed a ship full of prisoners that got in its way."

"They were _Klingon_ prisoners," Worf growled.

K'mpec sighed. He didn't give a damn about a ship full of prisoners. "Has Krala put you up to this?" the old Klingon asked tiredly. Krala, Worf's domineering wife and first officer aboard his ship was as highly volatile as Worf was honorable.

Worf slammed his fist against the wall. "I make my own decisions!"

"Such fire, Worf. Trouble at home?" Worf was known to have a dominating mate, and apparently did not appreciate the gossip. "Word is that Krala's father was on that prison ship, Worf. Her father was a prisoner…one of our most dishonored former citizens, Worf."

"Yes, Krala's father was one of those killed. But the most important thing is to avenge the fallen, Chancellor."

"No."

"Let me take my ship, and I will hunt down the Romulan criminals who did this."

"I thought we already established the Romulans are not behind this."  
"We can't be sure of this, Chancellor."

"Worf, according to our spies, the Remans have attempted a revolt against the Romulans. A band of them led by someone named TuVol are on a mission to kill every Romulan they can. The Remans are quite fierce, Worf."

"If they are so intent on destroying the Romulans, Chancellor, why are they passing through our territory killing Klingons, instead of back in the Alpha Quadrant on Romulus?"

K'mpec leaned forward. "Because rumor has it they are after something very powerful, Worf; something to help them gain a foothold against the Romulans."

Worf's eyes narrowed. "And by doing nothing to retaliate, you hope to allow them to succeed. How many more Klingons must die at the hands of these—"

"Commander Worf…I will not authorize you to hunt these Remans down, and that is final. Do _not_ disobey me."

* * *

Beverly touched a communications link on the wall. "Crusher to sick bay."

"Farmer here," came the immediate reply.

"Felix, you just heard the announcement."

"Yes, Doctor, we're under attack. We're preparing for casualties per emergency protocols."

"Good." Crusher hesitated. "I'll be here with my kids. But keep me informed if things escalate."

"Understood, Beverly, and don't worry, Doctor Selar and Alyssa are here and we've got things under control."

"Thank you...Crusher out."

She turned to Jean Luc and he smiled encouragingly at her. "I'll be back soon to finish my carrot."

"Sure you will," she said moving in to give him a quick kiss. "And we'll be fine here."

He nodded and without another word headed for the door, patting Seth quickly on the head and nodded to Wesley. But as the doors shut behind him he found that Wesley was still with him. He noted with alarm that the boy was pale and breathing shallowly. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Sir..." He reached out and grabbed Picard's shoulder in a death grip.

"Wesley? Wes, it's going to be alright." He tried to gain eye contact with his son, but he had a faraway frightened look. Suddenly Wes leaned his forehead against Picard's shoulder, going almost limp. He was mumbling incoherently. "Dad," he said quietly. "Dad, don't leave."

Picard hugged Wesley tightly. It was the first time he had called him "Dad" as that had always been reserved for Jack. While he didn't care if Wesley called him "Sir" for the rest of his life it was still nice to hear.

"Wesley, I'm coming back. Tell me what's wrong...please."

"What if...what if it's the Borg," Wesley said all in a rush. "I wouldn't know what to do. I'm afraid," he admitted.

"Wesley, you may not believe me, but I'm afraid too. Fear is very natural, but we cannot allow it to control us. But whether it's the Borg or someone else, I'm going to keep us safe." He pulled back holding his son by the shoulders. "It's just another problem to be resolved. Do you trust me?"

Wesley nodded, looking less scared and now just mortified. "Yeah."

"Good. Now I have to go, but I know that you and your mother and Seth will be able to keep each other safe. Alright?"

"Alright," the teen agreed, watching as the Captain hurried away down the corridor.

* * *

Something wasn't right. A few minutes ago, she'd left Deanna to stay with Beverly Crusher and her sons. She had left them only because she believed she needed to communicate with someone on this ship who would listen. Now Lwaxana Troi ran through the halls of the ship. She thought she was headed for the bridge, but the blasted computer had steered her wrong at one point. She could not _stand_ the voice of that computer; so condescending.

Whoever was attacking them was desperate for something they believed was on the ship. And they had relentless and powerful minds, possibly with telepathic properties. And so she ran in desperation, quickly growing out of breath.

Suddenly some doors opened to the side and the young blond woman from the awkward staff meeting rushed out. She was wearing a tank top and shorts and was sweaty and although hurried, very confident.

"Lieutenant," she called out, already having forgotten the woman's name. "Lieutenant!" She grabbed the hem of her skirt, hurrying to catch up to the long-legged officer.

The woman slowed, and turned to glance back at her. "Madame Ambassador. We're under red alert, and you should really get back to your quarters where it's safe—"

"Dear girl—" Lwaxana grabbed Yar's bicep. She was rewarded by a mental wave of aggression she couldn't possibly have believed was hidden behind the young woman's carefully kept exterior. Yar's expression remained unflappable as Mrs. Troi let go of her arm with a gasp.

She brought her hand up to her chest, trying to recover and hide her shock. "My goodness, you're solid as a rock," she said gesturing at Yar's physique. "I keep telling my Deanna to start a workout regime, but of course she _is_ nine months pregnant. But that's only a temporary condition. Perhaps you could give her some pointers-"

Yar was watching her stonily. "Mrs. Troi, I have to get to the bridge where I'm needed."

Lwaxana's gaze fell to Yar's necklace, where a strange small key hung. "Oh how unique," she said reaching out to touch the key with interest. Yar's hand came up quickly to grab the key tightly in her fist, and she back-peddled away from Mrs. Troi.

"Wait—wait…I'm sorry, Lieutenant…um—"

"Yar," said the young woman. "Lieutenant Yar. And you're Ambassador Lwaxana Troi. Notice how I didn't forget your name?"

Lwaxana tilted her head trying to show some compassion. "I'm sorry I'm just horrible with names. Not the best trait for an ambassador, I know. But I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I simply didn't realize you had such an aversion to being touched. You must have had just an awful upbringing—"

"On Turkana IV," said Yar coldly. "Everyone thinks I'm some kind of thug or reprobate because I grew up on Turkana. Well, I'm a survivor, that's all. Aside from that, I'm just like anyone else," she said lifting her chin proudly.

Lwaxana smiled gently. "Of course you are dear. Would you…would you pass along a message to the Captain?"

Yar nodded.

"Please tell him that the aliens who are trying to attack this ship want something they believe we have. And they won't stop until they have it."

* * *

The ship shook repeatedly on the way up to the bridge, and then trembled so violently that Picard stumbled onto the bridge when the lift doors opened. Tactical was manned by an inexperienced ensign. Where was Yar?

"Report," he snapped, as Data jumped to his feet out of the command chair.

"The ship was cloaked, Captain. Romulan in origin, but substantially modified," he said indicating a schematic on the chair's armrest. "The immediate problem is that we are trapped. Surrounding us are cloaked mines. Therefore, we cannot simply escape."

"How the hell do you know they're out there if they're cloaked?" he demanded.

"They are covered in trilithium resin, sir. Highly volatile, but detectable."

Picard rubbed the top of his head. _Dammit._

"They are also firing disruptor blasts which appear to be of expected frequency for a Romulan scout, but look here, sir."

Picard frowned. "What the hell kind of weapons are those? Looks like some kind of drill assembly," he murmured. He tapped the screen and the schematic turned. "Their shields aren't impressive." He glanced up at Data. "Have you tried to hail them?"

"Yes sir, they responded with a volley of disruptor fire, and then discharged the strange pulse weapon they are currently using. It is quite powerful."

They both glanced up as Yar steamed onto the bridge. She was in her workout attire, but was calm and appeared ready for action. Which was good, since they were in the thick of it. She immediately began working at tactical. "Captain, Ambassador Troi claims the attackers want something we have."

"Such as what?"

"I don't know, sir. She wasn't too specific. She just said they wouldn't give up, sir." The ship shook again as if on cue.

"Evasive maneuvers," said Picard, still standing next to his chair.

"Bring us around at 06 mark 242 and fire a spread of photon torpedoes."

"Mark," said the helm.

"Fire," said Picard.

"Direct hit, sir," Yar reported. "They've sustained seven percent damage to their shields, Captain."

Picard tapped at the armrest again. "Commander Sonarra,"

The Vulcan turned from her post at science station one. "Yes, Captain?"

"Launch a series of empty probe casings toward the mines—begin with those farthest away from us, so we don't get blown to bits," he said. "Let's see if we can detonate some of these mines and clear a path out of here."

Suddenly there was a low hum and a red wave of energy rolled through the bridge. "Status!"

"We're being scanned, Captain," Yar shouted.

* * *

Beverly sat cross-legged on the floor in Jean-Luc's quarters. Seth sat next to her with the side of his head leaning on her shoulder. He seemed mostly calm. Mrs. Troi had just burst back into the room, and had settled down next to Deanna, who was propped up on some pillows on the couch. Wesley was standing nearby, gripping his tricorder and looking very agitated.

When the red beam entered the room, Lwaxana was the first to shout in alarm. Beverly stood up, and watched as the beam passed through Wesley's body and then her own. Then it hit Seth, but instead of passing through him it hovered there. She pulled him by the arms, trying to move him out of the beam, but his body had gone heavy. "Wes!" she shouted, and Wesley was at her side, trying to move the little boy, to no avail.

Seth's eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell to the floor, beginning to go into a seizure of some kind. His body began to jerk to and fro as Mrs. Troi rushed over with the med kit. "Hold his shoulders," Beverly shouted at Wesley, who knelt, complying.

* * *

On board the _Death's Talon _Reman Commander TuVol clasped his hands together. He pointed at the screen where the Enterprise floated. "The Jewel is on that ship. Increase the resonator beam. Attack their dilithium chamber. Prepare boarding parties."

* * *

"Are we still being scanned?"

"Yes," said Data. "The scan has moved to the decks below us, Captain. It appears to be a harmless sensor sweep."

"Captain," Yar said with alarm. "A second ship is de-cloaking!"

All eyes fell on the forward view screen. Picard's heart jumped immediately and this time with joy. Finally some good news. "It's a Klingon attack cruiser," he said with relief.

"Captain they are hailing us."

"On audio only," Picard said.

"_Captain Picard, this is Commander Worf."_

Despite himself, Picard broke into a smile. "Worf, good timing."

"_Captain, we have been following the enemy for four hours now. Despite the vessel, these are not Romulans, they are Remans."_

Picard's smile was immediately erased. He was aware of this offshoot of the Romulan species from his days with the Q. They were known to be masterful warriors, who were also the underclass of the Romulans.

"Explains the mining weapons, but little else," said the Captain.

"What's a Reman?" Yar demanded.

If Worf recognized her voice he didn't let on. "_The Remans are expert miners of ore, particularly dilithium,"_ explained Worf. "_They have a weapon that will shatter your dilithium core. This is what is causing your ship to vibrate. You must divert shield power to protect your warp core or your ship will be destroyed. However once your shields are diverted they will drill into your ship and board it."_

"Meanwhile what do you intend to do?" asked Data.

"_We will attempt to bombard them with our proton torpedoes, while taking out some of those mines, but our ship has been weakened by engaging them repeatedly over the last several hours,_" replied Worf.

"What do they want?" Picard staggered as the pounding throughout grew more unbearable.

_"Our intelligence has it that the Remans are searching for something they believe will free them from the rule of the Romulans. Whatever it is they believe it to be a powerful weapon. If they intend to board your ship it may be because they believe whatever they want it is on board the Enterprise. Did they scan you_?"

"Yes," said Picard.

"_They are desperately searching for a very powerful item. And they will kill everyone on board to retrieve what they want."_

"No they won't," said Picard grimly. "Because I won't let them. Besides we don't have what they want."

_"Perhaps the key is to convince them of this, Captain. They are very single minded. In any case, if we work together, we won't have to talk to them at all if we destroy them."_

"Thank you Worf, we'll take your advice about the shields and then contact you again. Meanwhile good luck to you," he added. "Enterprise out."

* * *

He stood up and turned to look at Lt. Yar. "Well? Can it be done? Can we shift power from the deflector array and generate a shield to guard the core?"

Yar's hands flew over the controls, as the shuddering continued to reverberate through the starship. "It hasn't been done before sir, but I'm going to try. All we need is something in engineering similar enough to a deflector array and we should be able to accomplish it."

He tapped his communicator. "Commander LaForge, the Klingons tell us the attacking ship is going to try and shatter our dilithium framework, and by extension our warp core. They have weapons originally used to locate and fragment dilithium ore."

The engineer paused over the intercom, perhaps visualizing his beloved warp core being bashed into pieces. "_Well, we have the power grid down here in engineering, and enough electro plasma to create a self-contained shield around the core if it can be stabilized."_

"We can't leave the rest of the ship defenseless," Yar argued from tactical.

"It would be possible to maintain minimal shielding and still divert power from the deflector shields to the power grid," offered Commander Sonarra.

Data nodded. "But this would be most effective using the plasma conduit transfer—"

"Good, good, let's make it so then," Picard cut in quickly. "We're running out of time." Another blast shook the ship. "Helm take us 10,000 meters away."

"Aye sir. Enemy ship is in pursuit."

"Fire at will."

"Firing sir," said Yar. "Three direct hits sir. We've weakened their shields." Picard settled back in his command chair. Yar had a clear talent for targeting while on the run, which was very lucky for them.

* * *

"Seth…Seth can you hear me?" Beverly tried to stabilize him, but his body continued to seize. His eyes stared into the distance. Afraid he would choke, she turned him on his side and that is when she saw that the base of his neck was glowing ruby red. Frightened, she grabbed him into her arms. "This thing scanning him is killing him," she shouted. "We have to find a way to stop it."

Wesley was busily working on his tricorder. "I'm looking for a way," he said. "I'll find a way," he assured her.

* * *

"_Captain, the plasma shield emitter is ready to go down here in engineering," _said LaForge._ "Whenever you're ready," _he said.

"Proceed immediately then, Geordi," Picard said.

On the view screen, the enemy ship moved in closer, all the while being fired upon by the Klingon cruiser. A swirling beam suddenly emitted from the Reman ship and began to bore a hole into the hull of the Enterprise, just as Worf had warned. The Remans were trying to drill a hole in order to board.

"Shields are minimal," Data reported.

"Compensate with whatever we have," Picard ordered. "Fire at will."

_Have we avoided the destruction of our warp core, only to be destroyed in another way?_ Picard thought darkly. For the first time since he had been without it, his mind strayed to the Power and wondered for a moment just why he had given it up.

"Hull breach on decks 20 thru 26," reported Sonarra. "A plasma fire has been ignited on deck thirteen."

"Send emergency crews to the afflicted areas immediately," Data said into the intercom.

"Try and put some distance between us and that ship!" Picard yelled.

A massive shuddering crunching sound reverberated through the ship. Data looked up from a science station. "We are too late, Captain. We have hull to hull contact. The Remans are attempting to board."

"_Intruder Alert on decks 23 and 24,"_ reported the computer.

"This is Lieutenant Yar to security. Send security teams to decks 23 and 24. Use extreme caution. Captain, permission to-" She cut off as three crouching shapes materialized on the bridge, rushing toward Captain Picard.

Picard ducked as one Reman swung a thick metal pole with a sharp end over his head. He crouched and grabbed a small phaser from underneath his chair, firing on the Reman point blank. The Reman disintegrated, but then another came, just as Yar was vaulting over the tactical station. She caught one of the charging Remans in the chest with both of her boots, and then rolled to the deck, coming up firing. The third Reman grabbed Picard by the neck and lifted him into the air, barking something harshly into a communicator around its spiny wrist. Yar leapt onto the intruder's back and then all three were swirled away in a transporter beam.

* * *

**Hey, thanks for your feedback and for reading this story...-PP**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

_**The Eureka**_

Riker woke from a dream and nearly rolled out of bed-at least he would have if there hadn't been a woman there to stop his falling; and conveniently there was another woman on the other side of him too, in case he felt the need to roll in the opposite direction. It was actually not a bed they were lying on, but a large hammock swinging quietly in the breeze. A tropical breeze to be exact, as they were lounging on the beach. But as the evening wore in, he'd fallen asleep. And he'd been dreaming of Deanna. Distantly he wondered if she would be angry when she found he'd been with other women...several others. He smiled to himself. At first she might be, but eventually she would understand...just as he had come to. There was a greater place he was headed to with Marco. And Deanna, after overcoming her anger and jealousy would understand that.

"Is this all you intend to do? Have sex and watch the sunset?" A gruff voice nearby pierced the dusk. A single eye glinted at him in the dim light. It was Caine... Marco's henchman, his right hand man.

"It's start," said Will with a grin. He shook Samla awake and she looked up at him. The second Orion woman was already awake and dropping down off the hammock into the sand. "Now how can I help you?"

Caine tilted his head under his hood. "You can't help me. But you can help Marco. Your friends and their ship appear to have been delayed Riker. And you're going to convince them to come quicker."

Riker laughed and hopped down into the sand, clapping his hands with delight. "What a great idea!"

* * *

_**The Enterprise**_

The Reman invaders were so fast they blew through the Enterprise security teams ferociously and yet with a purposeful ease. Some of them ran on two legs, but others scurried on all fours, using their long arms and powerful legs to propel them forward. They were searching for the Jewel of Power. They struck fear into whomever they encountered, as their pale wiry bodies, large pointed ears and sharp teeth were quite fearsome to look on. They sliced any defending crew with sharp knives and fired bolts of plasma at them from crude disruptors.

Occasionally they would stop, the leader would sniff the air and then resume the hunt. What the Enterprise crew did not know was that the object the Remans sought had never been seen by living eyes, that they knew of, as it was a thing of legend. So to say the Remans didn't exactly know what to look for was fairly accurate. But now that they were on board, they were determined.

* * *

**2355 Refugee Camp, Unnamed Planet**

Through the tent flap she could see the holo banner advertisement that had been posted for two days now in the center of the encampment. "Escape your troubles, and head to the Federation frontier for a new start on Marca II! Shuttle trips to begin regularly soon."

She looked down at the three month old baby in her arms. "We'll leave here soon, don't worry," she whispered. "As soon as you are strong enough."

Adrena lifted her head in the dark, as a shadow passed the low entryway of the tent. She heard the shuffle of feet, the footsteps of someone practiced at sneaking about.

A long knife glimmered in the darkness. "Long time no see, Adrena," said the stooped hooded figure. His gravelly voice was unmistakable. "And still as beautiful as ever.

She sat up, still holding her son. "What do you want, Caine?"

"I'd like to see you back where you belong. Those Orions we sold you to six months ago weren't happy you skipped out on them. You owe me...and him."

"I don't owe you a thing, Caine," she said with deceptive calm.

"How could you give up the kind of life you had? You can do anything with that great mind of yours. What a waste!" he hissed.

She laughed derisively pulling her baby closer to her. "Some life...he sold me...I'm a person, Caine. He discards people once he can't use them anymore. I was too willful-I wouldn't let him use my telepathy to make him rich any longer-so he sold me away as punishment. Out like the trash...and one day you will be too."

Caine smiled in the darkness. "Then you won't reconsider coming quietly? You know I'm not one to make a scene."

"My talents can't be bought anymore. Not by you, and not by him."

Caine shrugged. "He don't want you anymore anyway, Adrena. You said so yourself, you're too much trouble."

"So leave then."

He shook his head. "Uh-uh...gimme the boy...now."

She froze. "No."

"Danny wants to see his son. Tell me, does the little guy have green eyes too? Between the two of ya, he'll have the looks alright." He took a step, tapping the knife against his thigh.

"Don't come any closer," said Adrena. "Unless you want to die here in this tent."

"You always were over-confident," he said with a cold grin. "Don't worry Adrena, I'll bring the boy back to you. Danny wants to see him for a bit, that's all."

Without a word, Adrena stood up and placed the baby down carefully on the cot, turning her back to Caine. Her son blinked up at her in the darkness. He wouldn't cry, she knew; he rarely did. Because intuitively he always understood. He had the gift already.

"I love you, Seth," she said just before kicking her leg back into Caine's diaphragm. She heard him grunt as the air left his body and he staggered backwards. He recovered quickly, and spun a kick toward her head which she barely evaded. He sliced down at her with the knife and she stepped out of the way just enough that he swooped in to grab the baby up in his arms, but she kneed him in the throat as he bent over.

Clutching his throat he fell to a knee, but then thrust the knife up at her. She blocked it, disarmed him and then shoved the knife back into Caine's eye. He screamed, but then pulled a disruptor, shooting her point blank on heavy stun. She fell backward in slow motion, watching helplessly as Caine, still clutching the knife handle sticking out if his eye, reached down with his other arm to scoop up the baby. And then she fell unconscious thinking only of her son.

Caine did return her son to her several weeks later, as promised. As he was a baby, Seth couldn't explain what had been done to him. The only evidence of trauma was a tiny thin red line on the back of his neck. The physicians in the refugee camp could find nothing wrong. And after a few more weeks, it disappeared.

* * *

_**Enterprise**_

Seth had stopped twitching minutes earlier, and his eyes had closed. Beverly held him in her arms while she dictated into the tricorder. "After a sustained episode of excessive synchronous neuronal activity, the patient is now verbally unresponsive. Breathing has normalized, eyes are shut, but pupils are dilated. The energy beam that seemed attracted to him is still surrounding him-"

""Mom!" Wesley was screaming into her ear all of a sudden and she ceased her dictation.

"Mom, I think I figured it out. I've modified the transporter phase program I was working on for Geordi. I can place Seth in a sort of cocoon which should protect him from that beam." He paused, chest heaving. "Okay?"

Beverly licked her dry lips, and nodded up at him. "Make it...make it so," she said as firmly as possible.

Wesley crouched down immediately and put his tricorder down next to Seth and Beverly. "Just hold still for now, but you should be able to move in and out of it at will once it's activated. "Ready? One, two, three!"

A bubble of light suddenly enveloped Beverly and Seth. The red beam wavered, and then passed through the wall of the room, apparently continuing its search, and finally leaving Seth alone.

Wesley leapt to his feet. "Yes!"

* * *

**Reman Ship _The Death's Talon_**

"My Lord," Said Kol. "The signal has been lost. The Jewel is no longer on board the Federation vessel."

"Impossible!" TuVol shouted, slamming his fist into the sensor console. He pointed a long finger at his second in command. "Come with me, to interrogate the prisoners."

* * *

"Permission to do what?" he murmured into the darkness. He was lying on his side with his hands and feet bound. They must have been on board the Reman ship. The side of his face was swollen and painful, but he could move his jaw. He felt around his mouth with his tongue and was pleased to find his teeth still intact. He shut his eyes tightly remembering he had told Wesley he would be back. Why did he always make those kinds of promises?

He heard the side of Yar's boot scrape the floor. "Sir?" She replied groggily.

"What did you want permission to do before we...ended up like this?"

Yar coughed. "I was going to ask you if I could leave the bridge, sir."

"Why?"

She was silent for a few moments.

"If we were on the bridge you wouldn't have had time to think over my question," he reminded her. "So...what was your reason?"

"I wanted to lead the security teams to stop the Remans from boarding, sir."

"Why?"

"Well, I'm chief of security sir-"

"That's not the real reason and you know it. Now tell me the truth now or face a reprimand," he said sharply.

"I like to fight sir,"she admitted after a few more moments. "Sometimes it's the only thing that makes me feel whole. Most people wouldn't understand the way I grew up...so I don't discuss it."

"I see," he replied without judgment. "Well you got your wish then didn't you? You got your fight. Not much good it did us, either," he added.

She said nothing for a moment then, "I was trying to protect you sir. And I failed."

Picard laughed as well as he could with a swollen jaw. "I'm still alive aren't I? You did well enough, Yar." He winced, feeling a shooting pain in his lower back when he had laughed.

"Are you hurt?" He asked her, and while waiting for her always carefully thought out answers, assessed his own damages. He'd been struck in the face, lifted by his neck, which was extremely stiff, and kicked in the left side of his back, on which he was now lying. The Remans were incredibly strong, because of course they shared genetic lines with the Romulans and Vulcans. He understood that in theory, but didn't appreciate the reality until it quite literally hit him in the face. Noting the dark confines, he recalled that they were also highly sensitive to light, and the darkness was designed with the Remans in mind.

"Just a few bumps and bruises, sir," was the calm reply. "Sir...we should come up with a story...in case we're tortured."

"No. It won't happen, I won't permit us to be tortured Lieutenant."

"But sir, you can't control-"

"Prisoners! On your feet!"

Picard and Yar lifted their necks to see two Remans had entered the room. The tall one who had picked him up by the neck on the Enterprise bridge and then beaten him soundly following transport, walked toward them. The other more battered looking Reman was the one giving orders; the one in charge.

The tall one stooped down sinking his claws into Picard's neck again and lifted him to his feet. His legs were asleep and pins and needles danced in the soles of his feet. "Put him against the wall," said the leader, and Picard was shoved against the wall by the tall subordinate.

"I am TuVol," said the leader, pacing over to Yar. He lifted her up by her hair. She grimaced, but a defiant expression remained pasted on the young woman's face. TuVol looked directly at Picard, still restrained as he flicked his wrist and a thin sharp implement extended seemingly from the Reman's sleeve. "Where is the Jewel? I will give you twenty of your seconds to answer correctly. If you fail to answer or fail to answer correctly, I will pierce this human's temple. I am told this is a sensitive point on a human body."He smiled. "But of course, you are the first of your species I have met in the flesh, so to speak. Now...where is the Jewel of Power?"

Picard took a deep breath. "You must not kill her," he said speedily. "We don't know what you're talking about. We have no Jewel."

"It was on your ship...But now it has gone. Where is it?" He bent over Yar with the sharp blade, bringing it to her temple. She remained stoic, keeping her eyes fixed on Picard.

Picard's eyes narrowed. "How should I know? What does it look like? You don't know do you? You attacked my ship over a goddamn trinket you know nothing about!"

TuVol showed his teeth. "Shall we ask the question to Marco? Perhaps he knows..."

Picard knew his surprised expression gave him away. TuVol smiled in that horrifying way again. "You know him then...Good. Now, where is the Jewel?"

Yar suddenly began struggle at that moment and TuVol pulled back ready to strike at her with his knife. "No!" Picard shouted, and a familiar yet unexpected warmth flooded his chest. He broke free of the Reman's grip and pushed TuVol away effortlessly. Both Remans screamed at the flash of white light emanating from his chest and he grabbed Yar's hand.

Blinking, he found they were now standing in the middle of Ten Forward. And as he turned to glance at Yar, he saw a glimmer of a look he'd seen before, in another lifetime.

* * *

Thanks for your continuing interest in this story. Sorry about any typos, as posting to the site tonight was full of unexciting pitfalls and jazz-hands moments. Thanks for reviewing! Take care -PP


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

"_This is Commander Data,_" echoed Data's voice over the intercom. "_The enemy ship has departed the sector. All Remans have presumably returned to their vessel. The crew should proceed with caution_. _Once we are certain that all intruders are no longer on board, General Quarters, security condition three will cease. Until that time, all civilian crew are required to remain inside their living quarters."_

Beverly stood up, lifting Seth into her arms. She had to get Seth to Sick bay, but she had to talk to Jean-Luc now that they were out of immediate danger. She had to tell him about Seth. How could she have been so stupid? She should have kept him in sick bay as soon as she'd found that bump on the back of his neck. But she hadn't. She struggled to retain her perspective; as a mother and a physician, she had to keep her mind balanced.

She blinked back tears. "Crusher to Bridge."

"Bridge here, Doctor. This is Commander Data."

Her heart jumped. "I—I need to speak to Captain Picard."

There was an uncharacteristic pause from the android. "Doctor I am afraid that Captain Picard was captured by the Remans."

"What?" She felt Wesley standing at her side now.

"Reman soldiers beamed on board and kidnapped Captain Picard and Lieutenant Yar."

"Data, why didn't anyone tell me—_Data_—"

"Please wait Doctor—"she heard Data speaking to someone in the background. "Doctor, Commander Data here…the computer reports that Captain Picard and Lieutenant Yar are now back on board," he said sounding somewhat surprised.

"Where are they?"

"Ten Forward. We are sending a security team there at once."

"Are they alive?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Then as soon as they are located, beam them directly to Sick Bay." She made a decision then that she hoped she would not regret. She turned to Deanna and Mrs. Troi. "Please stay with Wesley?"

"Of course," Deanna said, sitting forward relieved that much of the danger had left them.

Beverly hit her communicator. "Two to beam directly to Sick Bay."

* * *

"_**Why**__ at this time and place have you chosen to reappear?"_

"_You were in danger. Your fragile limbs were bound and that devious creature intended to kill you," said the Power. "I have sent them all back to their nasty little ship where they belong."_

"_Yes, and I thank you eternally, but now __**she's**__ seen you."_

"_You have gotten along with her so well so far. I am impressed. You are the only one on board who she is beginning to trust, Jean-Luc. That bodes very well for the present and future."_

"_But can I trust __**her**__?"_

"_That remains to be seen. But you have me back now—as long as you do not send me away again. If you are unsure about Yar, erase her memory," the Power suggested._

"_I didn't ask for you to come back," he communicated silently._

"_So you are not thankful after all? You sent me away so ungratefully, even going so far as to harm your own tender flesh. I did not know you to be an ungrateful being, Jean-Luc. We had been having such a good time together…enjoying good times as friends."_

"_It's not that I am ungrateful. Look, I've tried to avoid using the Power- using you for this very reason. I have to be careful. I don't want to be a Q anymore—and I don't want Yar to want to be a Q either. The results as you know personally could be disastrous."_

"_Yes. Then you will be prudent as Beverly would wish, and erase Yar's memory?"_

"_Don't bring Beverly into this. Besides…if I can erase her memory now, I can erase it at any time," he insisted._

"_You do like to play with fate, Jean-Luc. That is why you will always be something of a Q. I enjoy your games. But be careful."_

"_It's not a game," he shot back. "Why does no one understand this? I simply want to give her a chance. To show that people can change—anyone can."_

"_Who are you trying to prove this to? Your friends? Yourself? Or Yar?"_

* * *

"Sir?" Yar repeated, looking around them in confusion. "Captain what just happened?"

When she interrupted his silent conversation, it came to him then; he would appeal to her adherence to duty. He whirled around, looking her up and down. "Are you alright, Lieutenant?"

A mottled bruise was forming near her hairline where the thin trickle of blood started at her temple and etched its way down her neck, where TuVol's blade had grazed her skin. She stood very still watching him. He recognized not for the first time that she was very striking, very attractive in an athletic and dangerous way. She appeared almost invulnerable, even in shorts and a tank top, and he doubted very much that this was the worst she'd been through in her young life. "I'm okay, Captain. What just happened, sir?"

He took a slow breath in and felt a stab of pain in his back again. That Reman had damaged his kidney when it kicked him in the back, he was sure of it. He also recognized now that he had to urinate and didn't look forward to accomplishing the task with an injured kidney. Hoping his discomfort was not so noticeable he straightened and walked closer to her coming almost nose to nose. She straightened almost at attention, but still eyed him warily, still waiting for her explanation. "What you just saw—or _thought_ you saw, Lieutenant is strictly classified, and related to my eleven year disappearance. That is all you need to know, and I expect no further investigation or mention of this from you. You are not to discuss it with anyone, even if questioned. Understood?"

Something seemed to click behind her gaze and she nodded slightly. "Yes sir. Perfectly." Something caught her eye and she turned. He followed her gaze to see that the only person with them in Ten Forward was Guinan. He wondered if the Power had done that on purpose, knowing that given the emergency on board the ship the bartender would be the only occupant—and she was an ally.

Yar glanced at Guinan and then Picard in alarm. She hadn't met Guinan yet, but was immediately suspicious given what the Captain had just told her. Obviously the Captain had been altered in some way when he was abducted so many years ago, and only Starfleet Intelligence was aware of his strange abilities. The aliens had probably experimented on him. She felt a strange pang of something. The Captain understood what it was like to be victimized, and survive against all odds. They had this in common. Yar pointed at Guinan, who was walking slowly toward them. "She was here when we arrived, Captain. She needs to be debriefed, immediately."

"De—what?" Guinan questioned curiously, halting her steps.

Yar glanced at Picard with a worried expression. "Sir…we need to make sure she didn't see anything."

"See what?" said Guinan with a blank look.

"Guinan…" Picard shot her a warning look. "Did you happen to notice when we entered the bar?"

Guinan shook her head looking convincingly confounded. "No…I thought I heard the doors open when I was cleaning behind the bar, and then when I looked up, you were both here." She smiled. "So I suppose I was right…right?"

"Right," Yar and Picard said at the same moment. But Yar didn't seem entirely certain yet.

"Sir," she said lowering her voice. "We should still question her in case—"

"No Lieutenant," Picard said shaking his head curtly. "If Guinan says she didn't see anything out of the ordinary, that's good enough for me."

When the security personnel entered, it was clear that Yar believed that she and the Captain were in a united front. "Get the Captain to sick bay immediately," she snapped at the rushing crew members. "Can't you see he's injured?"

* * *

_**The Eureka**_

"Stop smiling," Caine shouted, as he punched Will Riker in the face a third time.

Riker grinned at him through his split lip. "I can't help it…I'm just so happy to be here," he said.

Marco stood several paces away looking on distastefully. "Will…we don't want to hurt you. But Picard has to be convinced that you want to escape."

"Oh yeah," said Riker. "I get it. Once the time comes, believe me, I will sell it no problem."

"But will he want to buy what you're selling?" Caine said, wiping Riker's blood off of his fist.

Riker laughed and nodded. "I'm telling you, he'll see my beat up face and once I've transmitted our coordinates, he'll be so concerned he'll warp here as fast as he can. Picard's my buddy," he said laughing again.

"I don't care if he's your mommy, just make sure you give him the right coordinates," Caine snapped, gripping Riker's chin and then letting go roughly.

"Sure," said Riker easily with a shrug. "Just tell me when."

Marco caught Caine's arm. "Hey," he said lowering his voice. "Easy on Riker. He's one of us now."

Caine stared at Marco with his one cold eye. "Danny…you have me around for the unpleasant chores you don't have the stomach for anymore."

"You don't have to enjoy it so much, though Caine. And don't call me Danny anymore. My name is Marco."

Caine smiled menacingly, gesturing at the bloodied but still smiling Riker. "You wanted me to make him look like a real prisoner…now doesn't he look convincing?"

* * *

The sound of shambling boots and tense voices made Beverly look up from what she was doing. "He's stable now," said Beverly, turning away from Seth's bio bed to look up at Felix Farmer. Reluctantly she let go of the boy's limp hand. "Please monitor him, and let me know of any changes." She turned to walk away and then stopped. "And can you contact Guinan? I want her to be here with him when he wakes up."

Felix looked puzzled but nodded. "Of course, no problem."

* * *

"Hold still," Beverly said, holding a scanner against Picard's back, moving it up just underneath his ribs. She pulled up his shirt in the back. There was a large boot print and a large bruise surrounding it. "You're lucky he didn't break your spine. About an inch to the right and he might have. "I'm concerned about your left kidney, Jean-Luc. I'm going to inject you with a renal regeneration serum…unfortunately it's going to make you have to urinate frequently for the next few hours."

"Just what I was hoping to avoid," he murmured. "Not exactly conducive to being a Starship Captain. 'Captain on the bridge…no wait a few minutes, he's in the bathroom again.'"

Beverly bit her lip to avoid laughing. "I didn't say it would be a permanent condition, Jean-Luc. And I'll give you an analgesic for the pain." She touched him on the back of his neck gently. "Because at first it's going to hurt to pee—"

He smiled grimly. "Yes, I figured. Moving along…."

"Okay, let's move along," she agreed, her tone becoming more professional. "How did you arrive in Ten Forward without the ship's sensors realizing it right away?" She carefully ran a scanner over his bruised jaw.

For a moment he considered returning to the subject of painful urination as an alternative to their present discussion. "I used the Power to bring us back on board. I didn't mean to –I just did it. The Power came back when I was in need, just like Q…" he trailed off, rolling his eye to try and gauge her expression.

"Hold still," she said tightly. "Just like Q _what_? And what do you mean the Power came back?"

"Ow that hurts," he objected, trying to lean away from her grip on his jaw. "I—I made the Power leave me down on Betazed. I was going to tell you, Beverly, and then-"

"No you weren't," she said, moving away from him to her med kit. She reached inside and pulled out a huge needle. "You had no intention of telling me." His eyes widened, and she didn't seem to notice his discomfort as she put the needle back and pulled out a much smaller hypo spray.

He sighed in relief. "No that's not true."

She lifted his shirt and poked the hypo spray into his back. "This is for the pain," she said rather coldly as it hissed into his back. She changed the cartridge and then the cold instrument hissed into his back again, this time with a stranger sensation as the serum billowed into his body. "The only reason I'm not going to give you a hard time about this, Jean-Luc, is because you're alive. And I keep telling myself that it's the most important thing." She moved around in front of him. "But honesty is also important in a relationship. Did you forget about that when you were away from humans for eleven years?"

He stared at her silently. "I didn't want to worry you," he said. "I wasn't sure you'd even notice if it was gone."

"I didn't—yet. But don't you think I have a right to know what's happening with you personally? If not for me then for Wesley and Seth. I'm not saying that you can't have your privacy, but having a set of superpowers isn't exactly like keeping a diary, Jean-Luc. If your secret gets out, it could mean you or those around you are harmed. Don't you think I deserve to be kept in the loop?"

"Of course, of course," he agreed quickly. "It was inconsiderate of me…and stupid—"

"So does Yar know?" Her expression remained deadly serious.

He pulled back from her. "Yes. But I've contained it."

She stood up quickly and paced away from him. "Jean-Luc," she turned back to him. "I trust you. But you can't possibly control everything; keep_ everyone _safe. Not in this universe."

"I know, Beverly. I know."

She walked back over to him and bent down kissing him on the cheek and then his mouth. He reached up and traced his hand along her cheek. Gradually she pulled back with a soft smile. "I don't understand you most of the time," she admitted. "But I do love you."

She straightened and took his hand, and her smile faltered. "I've got something to tell you. I noticed it earlier today and I should have told you sooner." He looked up with a frown and for some reason his conversation with Wesley floated through his mind. Was Wesley alright? "It's Seth," she said. "Something has happened to him. He's alright for now," she reassured him when he stood to his feet. She took his hand and squeezed tightly. "But Seth has a…condition. And whatever it is, it has something to do with why those Remans attacked us."

* * *

**Hello everyone, thanks for reading and your reviews. I'm not sure if I will be able to post again this week, as my paying job is going to be really crazy. Anyway, have a great week. -PP**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

**Many years ago…**

The tube-shaped ship rocketed through the solar system at a rate of speed unsafe for landing. Zaftu, Twelfth Descendant of the Healing Order of the beings known in an isolated corner of the galaxy as the Keepers of the Light, moved its long-fingered hands unsteadily over the controls. If Zaftu had not been such an accomplished pilot, then it would surely have crashed the vessel by now, because Zaftu was nearly blind.

Zaftu hadn't always been nearly blind, but the disease that had taken the rest of its crew had now affected Zaftu as well, and by now had begun to ravage its organs beyond repair. Zaftu let out a low moan of pain and despair. Zaftu's crew of healers had failed to succeed in their desperate quest to find a cure for the disease that had wiped out the majority of the Keepers of the Light back on the home world.

The search for a cure had grown so bleak that Zaftu and others had been forced off planet to try and seek the cure with less chance of infection. But unfortunately, the plague had already infected some amongst the crew and by the time this was discovered, there was nothing that could be done.

It was all a disaster from there on in. And now, lost in an alien sector, closing in on a medium sized star of a golden hue, Zaftu saw few options. The ship itself was fine. But Zaftu was nearly incapacitated, near death, and the rest of the crew was dead, as far as Zaftu knew. Suddenly the perimeter console began to beep urgently. Zaftu strained to see as a giant blue and white orb loomed on the forward view screen.

* * *

**1100 A.D. Bahamas**

Nine year old Caonabo stood with his bare foot balanced on the simple rubber ball, waiting for the other players to arrive at the circle of rocks that made up the village playing field. Like most Taino youth he was a skilled ballplayer. He rolled the ball under his foot, hearing the dry earth crackle underneath. After a few more minutes of waiting he stamped his foot down on the solid ball impatiently, and then sat down on it balancing effortlessly without thinking about it.

If the others didn't arrive soon, they wouldn't have a chance to finish a game before Caonabo's father returned from the fishing canoes and he would have to help unload whatever fish had been caught that day. Untucking the lunch his mother had given him from his waistband he raised the baked sweet potato to his mouth, and munched on it absently, trying to keep his annoyance at bay.

Suddenly a hot wind began to swirl in the dust at the center of the village. He looked upward into the sky. Guabancex, goddess of the ocean storms must have been just as annoyed at his friends as he was. He hoped she was not too angry, because such things were not pleasant to experience first-hand. Caobano shielded his eyes with his hand, and then suddenly something caught his eye.

A bright flash of light in the sky burst almost blinding him, and Caobano lost his balance on the ball and stood up quickly, dropping his sweet potato snack to the ground. He stared out over the ocean, mouth open in awe. There was another bright flash in the sky and then a loud boom. The wind picked up again, and Caobano's eyes widened as he saw the object begin to plummet from out of the sky. It was coming closer…too quickly. The ground beneath him shuddered and he heard the other people in the village screaming. The glowing object suddenly sped overhead with a thunderous rumble. Caobano fell onto his back, clapping his hands over his ears to try and stop the deafening roar. But he saw with his eyes that the strange underside of the immense flying boat was covered in strange markings. It passed overhead quickly, and he struggled to get to his feet. He watched as the flying boat sped out over the ocean and then abruptly the glowing object disappeared into the waves with a booming crash.

* * *

**2365 Present Day**

"Such a frail piece of machinery, the mortal body," Q said. "Imagine being incapacitated by a simple thing such as a bruised kidney."

Picard shifted on his side and looked up at Q's floating disembodied head, hovering over his couch. "I don't have to imagine it, Q, I am experiencing it right now," he grumbled. He took off his glasses and set them down on his book. He sat up and leaned against the back of the couch. "What do you want?" he asked impatiently, but slightly groggy from the painkiller Beverly had given him.

Marca lay next to the couch at his feet and Wesley had retreated into his quarters across the corridor to "rest". He had tried to get his son to talk to him about what happened to Seth while he was with the Remans, but Wesley had been pale and tightlipped, even seeming to be angry at him. He supposed he would have to ask Beverly for her advice later.

Q's head floated lower down next to Marca's sleeping face. "What a fascinating creature," said Q. The dog opened one bloodshot eye and curled her lip slightly, showing her white teeth.

"Leave my dog alone, Q…now what do you want?" he repeated.

Q's head floated abruptly up into his face. "Not that close," Picard said, jerking backward.

"You're a very particular person, Picard."

Picard smiled. "I know."

Q's head nodded downward. "Why do you wear those ridiculous contraptions over your eyes? Surely you're eyes haven't devolved that much since returning to humanity just months ago."

Picard smiled again. "Beverly likes them. She says my glasses are sexy."

"Well…she's wrong—they're ridiculous."

Picard picked up the glasses and put them back on deliberately. "I think I will trust Beverly's judgment over yours in this instance."

Q's head bobbed up and down. "Suit yourself. Now, to business….The Q have been observing Yar so far, and we've learned something interesting."

"What?"

"She may prove to be more like you than you expect, Picard."

Picard shook his head. "More like me? What do you mean?"

"Do you recall when the Q banned you from creating any more humanoid species, because they all looked human?"

"Yes…get to the point!"

"When you brought Yar back, you had every intention of avoiding her more awful qualities."

"Of course I did."

"Yes, but it seems that in your own arrogant way, you imprinted her with some of your own qualities and personality traits."

"Nonsense," scoffed Jean-Luc. "I did no such thing."

Q smirked. "I didn't say that you _meant_ to do it. Wait and see. This could cause some interesting developments, Jean-Luc."

"You are finding this all very amusing, aren't you?"

"Yes," answered Q. "I am."

* * *

_Just go in there, make sure she's received the proper care, and then make a quick exit, Beverly_, she told herself silently. She took a deep breath and hesitated outside of the recovery room. Jean-Luc was now resting in his quarters, nursing a regenerating kidney. At least he was _supposed_ to be. In another few hours he would be fine. He was lucky he hadn't been injured more severely; not that he was lucky to have been kidnapped by the Remans in the first place. And he had reminded her that Yar had risked her life to prevent his capture and as a result had been captured as well. She tried to remember that as she walked into the room.

Yar looked up immediately when she walked in. Despite her knowledge of what Jean-Luc and Yar had just been through, Beverly was surprised at Yar's disheveled appearance, having seen her usually so well put together. She was now grimy, sweaty and wearing workout clothes. She looked away, but could feel the young woman's eyes following her as she walked to the side of the room.

"Not exactly a standard issue uniform, Lieutenant," Beverly commented, with her back still turned. She set her med kit down on a nearby counter and opened it up with a click.

"No, Ma'am," Yar said simply. "I was boxing on the holodeck when the red alert sounded. Commander Data ordered me off duty beforehand," she added, as though she were still annoyed by this.

Beverly turned around and approached Yar with her tricorder humming. When she glanced up she saw that Yar was wearing a strange item on a simple chain around her neck. _Not exactly standard issue either,_ she thought, averting her eyes again. She scanned Yar's recently repaired wounded scalp. Felix had fixed her up well and she could hardly see the outline of the fast-healing cut. "And you didn't like that, I gather?"

Yar shrugged. "A commanding officer gives an order, and I obey. What I like or don't like doesn't matter."

Beverly raised an eyebrow, but had no suitable response. She couldn't imagine thinking that way. But, she supposed perhaps everyone had to find a way to deal with orders and even commanding officers that they didn't like.

"Captain Picard informed me that you were very brave…that you tried to prevent him from being taken," she said. She touched Yar's hairline, testing the derma patch.

Yar tensed up as soon as Beverly touched her skin. "It doesn't matter," she mumbled, glancing at Beverly with a wary expression.

Beverly flushed slightly. "It matters to me. Maybe you saved the Captain's life…have you considered that possibility?"

"He saved me, Doctor…from the Reman captain. He was going to pierce my skull with some kind of knife, but-" her eyes widened slightly. 'But the Captain saved us both," she said quickly straightening her back.

Without thinking, Beverly put her palm on Yar's shoulder. Yar flinched visibly. She didn't like to be touched, that much was clear. Jean-Luc had told her something of the woman's horrible childhood, but there had only been so much she had wanted to know.

Beverly removed her hand from Yar's shoulder, but Yar caught Beverly's hand in her own. She looked up at the Doctor with a suddenly vulnerable expression and opened her mouth as if to say something.

Beverly froze, not exactly sure what was happening, but she didn't withdraw her hand from Yar's grip. And then very quickly, Yar's expression became guarded again, and she let go of Beverly's hand. "I'm sorry," she apologized, getting down from the bio bed. "Thank you for your help doctor," she added before exiting swiftly.

* * *

"_Captain to the bridge,"_ came Data's voice over the intercom in his quarters. "_We are receiving a transmission from Orion territory. It's on a priority channel, with a code identifiable to Commander Riker."_

Picard got to his feet. "I'm on my way…" he hesitated. "Data, please have Ambassador Troi join me in my ready room. In case it really is Riker, I want her to assess his condition. We'll listen to the transmission together."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

Beverly put the strange experience with Tasha Yar behind her and went to check on Seth in the recovery room. To her surprise, Wesley was there, sitting silently next to the younger boy's bed. She walked up behind him and leaned down hugging him around the shoulders. "I'm so glad you're both safe," she said kissing him on the cheek. "But it's 2 in the morning, Wesley. You really should go get some rest."

He shrugged. "I took a nap." Wesley held onto her arm, but said nothing else for a while. "I wonder what's wrong with him," he said distantly.

Beverly sighed and straightened, stretching out her stiff back. "He's got something implanted in his neck. From what I can tell it's not a leftover Borg implant- it's a tiny piece of magnesium."

Wesley frowned. "You mean the metal?"

She nodded. "Why it would be there, and why it was hidden before, I have no idea. For some reason the beam that scanned the Enterprise interfered with the object in his neck, or perhaps activated it somehow. He's stable now, and from what I can tell, it's not harming him. But as soon as I get some rest I am going to try to remove it surgically." She walked over to the bed and stroked the top of Seth's short curly hair. "I feel incredibly guilty," she admitted.

"Don't," Wesley said. "It's not your fault, Mom. Like you said, it didn't show itself before now."

"That's good advice," said a voice behind them. They looked up to see Guinan standing in the doorway. She approached carefully and stood over Seth. She looked at Beverly for permission. "May I?"

Beverly just looked at her but moved aside. Guinan leaned over the boy and then put her palm on his forehead gently. "I think he'll be ready to wake up soon. He just needs a little bit of help."

* * *

Picard stood at the door of his ready room and beckoned Deanna's mother inside. "Thank you for agreeing to view the transmission with me, Mrs. Troi."

"Of course I would agree! Will_ is_ my son-in-law after all, Captain. What kind of heartless woman do you think I am?"

Picard paused at her dramatic exclamation, and then gestured for her to walk past him in to the room. "Oh. Well, I certainly meant no offense."

She beamed a smile at him. "None taken, of course, you lovely man," she declared sweeping into the room and sitting down casually on the couch. She crossed one leg over the other and looked at him demurely before patting the seat next to her.

Picard cleared his throat. "Actually," he said, gesturing toward his personal view screen. "I thought we would sit at my desk and view the transmission together." As if to demonstrate, he pulled out a chair invitingly for her. Smiling again she gathered up her flowing skirt and then sat down gracefully in the offered chair.

Picard sat down beside her and reached out to switch on the screen, just as she inched her chair toward his until the two chairs were just touching. "How clever of you, Captain, now we can be closer together this way."

"Ah…." Not knowing what else to say, he switched the screen on and then looked at her before accepting the transmission. She was awfully close now—and why was she staring at him in such a way? He stuck his finger inside his collar uncomfortably. It seemed as though she was looking straight into his deepest thoughts, and felt decidedly uncomfortable. Mentally shrugging it off, he waved his hand over the screen accepting the incoming code.

The screen wavered for a moment in an odd way, and then Will Riker's familiar but bruised face appeared on screen. "Riker!"

The man on the screen coughed and then hunkered down in front of his screen secretively. "Jean-Luc…you've got to get me out of here," he whispered.

"Of course, of course, Riker, we are on our way," he reassured his friend. "Are you alright…I see they've harmed you."

Riker characteristically rubbed his beard. "They plan to kill me if you don't get here soon."

"Will, honey," Lwaxana spoke up. Riker shifted his attention to her and blinked as if in slow recognition.

"Oh…hi Lwaxana," he said. "Don't worry about me," he whispered. "As long as the Enterprise gets here soon, I'll be fine."

"I know you will, dear. Now, Will…what do these awful people want? Why did they take you?"

Instead of answering her, Riker glanced behind him, and then back at the screen. "There's not much time." He held up a tiny disk between his fingertips. "I've got our coordinates right here, Jean-Luc. As soon as I transmit them, you'll be all set." He lowered his hand to insert the disk.

"Good," Picard said. "Riker, what does this Marco person want? We understand he's ex-Starfleet. Can you tell us anything about him?"

Riker suddenly looked nervous for the first time. "I have to go, buddy…just get here as soon as you can."

* * *

**The **_**Eureka**_

Riker turned to look at Marco and Caine, standing behind him out of range of the view screen. "How'd I do?"

Marco nodded. "I think you're ready for the big time, Will."

Riker grinned. "I can't wait until Jean-Luc gets here. He's going to _love_ this place. Especially the women," he said wiggling his eyebrows.

Caine leaned on his elbow against the wall. "And if he doesn't like this place? What then, Riker?"

Will's expression grew serious, as if he hadn't considered that prospect. How could anyone not like what was happening on this ship? Especially knowing that the place they were traveling to was a place where they would find the secret to eternal life. "I—I'd try and convince him, I guess."

Marco walked over and put his hand on Riker's shoulder. He crouched down so that they were at eye level. His green eyes somehow seemed even more intense. "Will…now I thought we were clear on this. If any of your friends can't get with the program, I'm not going to expend one bit of energy on convincing them of anything." He made a gesture toward Caine. "Do you think Caine is just here for his good looks?"

Riker's smile faded gradually. "No…I guess he is kind of ugly, now that you mention it."

Caine kept a sinister smile plastered on his face.

Marco laughed softly. "I knew I made the right choice to open up to you, Will. And I know that if I ask you, you'll do anything I tell you to do." Marco's eyes were mesmerizing to Will at that moment. "Your friend Picard has something that belongs to me, and I don't think he's going to want to part with it."

Riker shook his head. "Picard is stubborn, but he can be convinced. I'll do it, don't worry."

Marco laughed again and stood up. "Good, Will, very good. Because if you can't accomplish the task I'll have to leave it to Caine. And he _will_ kill your friend."

* * *

Lt. Commander Sonnara turned from her current post at ops. "Commander Data, we have cleared the remaining mines in this area. They should pose no further problem for passing ships," she added.

Data nodded curtly. "Thank you, Commander."

"Commander, the Klingon ship from the Reman battle is de-cloaking," Yar suddenly announced from tactical. She had arrived on the bridge recently without comment, and looked well enough after her ordeal. Data did not ask what had occurred aboard the Reman ship. Of course, he expected that soon enough there would be a report. However, at the moment, Captain Picard was still engaged in communications with a transmission thought to be from Commander Riker.

"On screen," said Data calmly. He was no more surprised than if Yar had said, "Borg ship approaching", or "giant space frog croaking", because after all, he was an android. But more than that, he was the First Officer on a starship, and ultimately anything was possible. That isn't to say that Data never found certain events to be improbable, or unexpected, because he did. And the return of the Klingon ship was just another of these unlikely events.

The Klingon ship shimmered into view. "They are hailing us, sir," reported Yar.

Data said nothing, as the view screen suddenly filled with the face of an angry Klingon. "We demand to speak with you!"

Data fixed the Klingon with a placid look. "I _am_ listening," Data replied, simply.

The image on the view screen pulled back, and two large figures with their hands bound behind them were shoved toward the screen roughly. Data immediately recognized them as Worf and Krala. They looked just as angry as the first Klingon.

"Commander Worf," said Data by way of greeting.

The first Klingon stepped in front of the two prisoners then. "Do not honor him with the rank of a true Klingon officer. These two criminals have shamed their crew and the Klingon people by disobeying an order of the Chancellor!"

"It would seem that the more appropriate place for this type of dramatic oratory would be a court martial," Data observed.

Worf was shoved closer to the screen. Krala let out a low growl. "Tell the Federation man of your plight!" shouted the irate Klingon who had now apparently taken command of Worf's ship. "If they return to Qo'Nos, they will be executed. There will be no_ oratory_," he sneered. "But the Chancellor likes these two…and he does not want to kill them. But to have them return and not face the ultimate punishment would be politically…foolish of the Chancellor. Tell him," he screamed into Worf's ear again.

Worf looked as though it pained him to say the words. "We seek amnesty on board your vessel as political prisoners," he grumbled.

His wife stood staring angrily at the view screen, until Worf elbowed her in the ribs. "I seek amnesty as well," she growled.

Data consulted the appropriate legal protocols quickly. "As a preliminary matter and under emergency circumstances, I grant your petitions," he said. "You may beam over when ready."

* * *

When Riker's transmission turned off, Picard turned to Mrs. Troi, and realizing she was still too close for comfort, slid his chair far away from hers around to the other side of the desk. She appeared only mildly insulted by this. "What was—what was your assessment of Commander Riker's behavior just now?"

Lwaxana Troi got up from her seat with a sigh and sat down heavily on the couch. "He's either unable to express what he really wants to say…or he's hiding something. Of course, I can't read his mind from that far away, because I can't properly sense him; but I can do a fair approximation of a mind read. There is something very off about Will right now, but I can't put my finger on it."

"I agree…and if I had to guess I would say he is under the influence of some kind of drug. He's never called me by my first name that I can recall; always 'Picard' this and 'Picard' that…and certainly no one has ever referred to me as 'buddy' before…."

Lwaxana leaned back against the couch. "I'm glad Deanna wasn't here. I don't think she would've-Captain that's it! He didn't say a _word_ about Deanna, not one word about her or the baby. Now imagine that!"

Picard folded his hands over his stomach in front of him. "He's been in captivity for several days, Mrs. Troi. Perhaps he's just desperate to get free and is not thinking clearly. Who knows if they have been starving him, torturing him…and perhaps they were listening in. If that was the case, perhaps he was trying to shield them from knowledge of Deanna—for her safety."

"Perhaps," admitted Lwaxana. "But something very strange is happening here," she said with a frown. "You said perhaps he's desperate to get himself free. But he didn't seem very desperate, did he?" she said looking at him seriously.

He shook his head. She was right. "No, he didn't." He got up and walked around the desk, sitting down on the couch a safe distance away from her. He was trying to be gracious—he was glad for her help. But every time he came physically closer to her he felt _so_ uncomfortable.

Lwaxana laughed suddenly. "Oh, Captain, you don't have to feel uncomfortable for the way you feel about me," she reassured him loudly, before reaching out to place her hand on his knee.

Picard jumped a little, before lifting her hand off of his leg. "_Mrs. _Troi, I am afraid you have gained the wrong impression—"

"Oh, don't over-emphasize the 'Mrs.', Jean-Luc, my husband has been dead for _years_."

"Mrs. Troi, I happen to be involved with someone—"

"Oh Jean-Luc," she interrupted him boredly, "I'm a woman of the galaxy. And I happen to believe that it is entirely possible that you could have room in your heart for more than one woman at a time. In fact, based on your recent thoughts about me, I'm sure of it."

"Oh…no," he said quickly.

"Are you saying 'oh no' because you don't agree, or because you are afraid Beverly Crusher will find out about your unbridled feelings for me? Don't forget I've seen your thoughts, Jean-Luc. And you have a lot to answer for." She chuckled mischievously.

Picard stood up quickly. "Mrs. Troi! I asked you here to assist me because of your unique skills as an ambassador, and your familiarity with Commander Riker. And as for feelings for you, I have _none_."

Lwaxana made a skeptical face, looking up at him. "What did your Shakespeare say about protesting too much? Don't worry, Jean-Luc, I won't tell her that you think I'm so alluring that you can't stop thinking about me-"

Picard put his hands on his hips and then folded his arms over his chest, entirely unsure of what to do in this situation. He pointed at her. "Ambassador Troi…you had better not tell Beverly anything—"

"I know, she doesn't seem the type who would understand," said Lwaxana sympathetically. She stood up and strolled over to him. She kissed him on the cheek before he could move away and patted him on his chest. "It'll be our little secret for now," she said, before winking at him and walking out of the room.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

**Caribbean Islands 2365 Present Day**

"We've got something! It's coming up," the technician turned and shouted back at them from the edge of the platform. Walker Keel nodded to his two colleagues standing nearby, and they nodded back, quickly but nervously putting on their helmets. Walker reached up to wipe his sweat-streaked face before placing his own helmet over his head. The industrial tractor beam attached to the exploratory platform's crane made a loud whirring noise. Gradually a piece of twisted metal the size of Walker was lifted out of the ocean waves.

Walker's second in command, Commander Joyce laughed as the metallic material was lowered to the deck. "Is that it?"

Walker knelt down about ten feet away and stared at the object curiously. He could just make out part of a black letter on the hull of what used to be a ship. "Yes," he said softly and then stood to his feet. He nodded to Lieutenant Finn. "Get some samples,' he said. "But be careful—not too close," he added, as the young man moved in with his tricorder beeping.

Walker folded his arms over his chest and glanced at Commander Joyce. "So the story goes that in the year 1918, during a very violent world conflict, a ship carrying tons of ore to be used for ammunition sunk in this area. But the vessel's disappearance was never explained."

"The tricorder confirms this object could be the age you just indicated Captain," said Lieutenant Finn, glancing backward. "And this could easily have been a piece of a hull from one of those old warships."

Walked circled the object slowly. "Now here's where it gets weird…in the year 1963 there was a nuclear accident here in the same rough vicinity—"

"A nuclear accident?"

"A submarine was destroyed for reasons unknown…filling the lower depths of the ocean with radiation."

"Which is why we're wearing these suits?"

"No, the area is clean now…has been for years, Commander," said Walker. "In fact I was out here in a boat about twenty years ago. Of course," he added, "I hadn't yet heard these things I'm telling you now."

Commander Joyce looked at Walker skeptically. "If there really _was_ a nuclear reaction, Walker…very little would have made it through such a blast-certainly not the flimsy hull of a sunken boat like we have here."

"Exactly right," said Walker. "So why is it still here? That's what we need to find out." He turned his attention back to Finn, who was still kneeling, but his tricorder was resting on his knee and he had moved in closer.

Finn reached out a tentative gloved hand toward the jagged piece of hull. "What _is_ this stuff?" he murmured. A greenish tint now shimmered over the object and the surface appeared to be moving.

"Finn! Get away from there!"

Finn suddenly jerked backward and then fell onto the deck stiffly.

Walker spoke into his hand held communicator. "This is Agent Keel…beam us back to base immediately. Lieutenant Finn is to be placed in quarantine immediately. And have a medical team waiting for him."

* * *

**The **_**Enterprise**_

Yar left sick bay and Doctor Crusher behind quickly and didn't look back. Her heart filled with dread and a familiar low level self-hatred. She had long ago learned to distance herself from people. The only person she had dared to let herself grow close to in life was Gilda Stern her adopted big sister; the only person until she came on board whom she could truly trust.

But now on board the _Enterprise_ she had met Captain Picard. She sensed that they shared a common experience; perhaps a will to survive that could not be snuffed out by anyone or anything. He had just saved her life, and the only person to do this for her before had been Gilda. And now she kept his secret as well; this strange power which he forbade her from revealing to anyone. Did Beverly Crusher know about it? Of course she must. How could he possibly keep such a thing from the mother of his child-and his lover?

She jogged toward a turbo lift, feeling odd as she considered what had happened in sick bay. She was confused. Back in sick bay, Crusher had noticed her necklace, had looked at her in a way that conveyed a familiarity neither of them should have shared. Tasha Yar had little use for familiarity, for intimacy; and so the fact that she had felt an immediate connection to Beverly Crusher troubled her. Crusher's initial reaction to Yar during that first staff meeting had confused her as to the source of the woman's distrust.

But Yar was accustomed to hostility, so the fact that Crusher had at first seemed hostile had not exactly been abnormal. But when Crusher had touched her shoulder in sick bay, she had reacted by grabbing the doctor's hand. She didn't quite know why she had done so, except that she had felt drawn to the woman in that moment. She did find Beverly Crusher attractive, but that wasn't why she had grabbed her hand. Something had caused her in that moment to take a chance and seek a feeling of intimacy that she hadn't really ever known. And now she regretted it. What if Crusher had sensed her feeling somehow, or mistook her intentions? What if she told the Captain? Yar cursed herself silently. She did not want the Captain to believe that she had some kind of designs on his love interest. She didn't want Captain Picard to see her as competition, much less as a problem crew member. As she ducked into the lift, she clenched her jaw and resolved that next time she encountered Doctor Crusher she would have to try and make amends.

Ensign Arroyo smoothed his dark hair back out of his eyes. He'd returned to the Enterprise just a month ago, having completed a leave of absence. Like many on the Enterprise, he had experienced a considerable amount of stress following the loss of the _Hood_ and travel into the Delta Quadrant.  
Arroyo had been particularly troubled and had struggled emotionally following the defeat of the Borg. He had even considered finding a new career, but ultimately his brother, a lieutenant on board the Melbourne had convinced Arroyo to return to his post in Engineering.

The young engineer had undergone therapy and eventually had been cleared for duty again. But he still had dreams...actually one dream and it was always the same. He was in Engineering during the battle in which they had joined with the _USS Hood_ against the three Borg cubes.

Arroyo was there when the Borg drones transported in. Chief Engineer LaForge told everyone immediately to evacuate the area but was the last to do so himself, just as two Borg appeared inside Engineering. Before anyone could react, the Borg were stomping mechanically through the place. His friend Lieutenant Grimaldi was part of the security force that arrived to confront the Borg, and Arroyo could still hear Grimaldi yelling at him to run. Security fired on the Borg, and as one Security officer went down, Arroyo himself hit the deck and then hid under a table, frozen with fear as the Borg advanced and shot down Grimaldi and two other security officers with their cutting beams.

LaForge, in the wrong place at the wrong time, tried to stop one of the Borg from reaching the warp core, but he was struck in the head and knocked unconscious. Arroyo stayed very still and watched as his friend Grimaldi's body gradually turned lifeless. With the security detail dead, Laforge down, and the rest of the engineering complement evacuated, Arroyo thought he was alone; but that's when he saw her.

A young woman walked gracefully into Engineering. She was dressed in black, and despite the carnage she was walking into, was perfectly composed, her blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He'd seen her around maybe twice, but no one outside of Captain Crusher's inner circle had any real idea who she was. The rumor was she was Starfleet Intelligence. Arroyo, still paralyzed with horror and shame at having just witnessed his friend die at the hands of the Borg, stopped just short of yelling to her.

Instead he watched in muted shock as she stepped over LaForge almost casually and then nudged Grimaldi's body with her boot as though making sure that he was dead. She didn't even glance at the bodies of the other security officers and then marched over to one of the Borg who stood in front of the warp core, examining it with its personal sensor array. She reached up to the Borg and seemed to press her thumb into its chest. Then she tapped it on the side of its head activating a green swirling transport beam that surrounded the Borg as she stepped back and watched it beam away. Then she moved to the other Borg, and attempted the same maneuver. But the Borg ignored her. She attempted another series of commands, but the Borg continued to gather information from the work station ignoring her. Suddenly she grabbed it by its neck, flipped it over onto the floor and Arroyo heard a snap as its neck was broken. The woman raised her head at that moment, with a very cold look in her eyes. She seemed to look through him, as she stood up and that was when he fainted. That was how the dream always ended, because in real life that was how it had been.

But now as Arroyo stepped into the turbo lift months later he was suddenly faced with the same set of eyes. Although now the woman had shorter hair, and showed no recognition of him. But he was certain it was her. She glanced briefly at Arroyo, and then returned to ruminating about something. She shut her eyes, and Arroyo took the opportunity to stare at her openly. He allowed a slow hatred for her to creep into his heart; something more bearable to replace the pain he felt at losing his friend. What was she doing on board this ship? She was allied with the Borg. A traitor.

Suddenly the woman opened her eyes and glared at him.

"Do I know you?" she snapped.

Arroyo shook his head "no" silently and then hastily retreated off the turbo lift at the next deck up. He felt the woman's eyes still on him as he exited.

* * *

"Are you still angry with me?" Picard asked, rubbing his sore back and looking over at his son. Wesley was standing up, leaning back against the wall. He had entered sick bay a little while ago, after hastily retreating from Mrs. Troi, and since then they had both been waiting somewhat impatiently for Seth to awake. Guinan had left several minutes before leaving Picard and Wesley to spend most of their time in awkward silence.

Wesley reached across his body and scratched his arm. "I don't know. I guess I never was," he shrugged.

"You have that look though," Picard pressed on, sounding doubtful.

"What look?" Wesley gave him a blank expression.

"_That_ look," Picard said, pointing at him. "Your mother looks exactly the same way when she's upset with me. Believe me… I have some practice with that face."

Wesley returned his gaze to Seth's slender form. "I was worried about you…that's all. I know it sounds dumb."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Of course it's not dumb…I worry about you all the time, Wesley. But perhaps it still surprises me that anyone would be worried about me."

Wesley squinted quizzically at his father. "_Why?"_

"I suppose that when I was with the Q I was mostly alone. The Q do not view or need companionship as we do. At some point I came to believe that I would remain that way for all eternity." He sighed and smiled at Wesley. "And I came to believe that I was merely a memory to my family and friends."

"So you're still getting used to being human again."

Picard nodded slowly. "That is a fair way to describe it."

Wesley shrugged again. "Well…I'd like to help you if I can."

Jean-Luc smiled warmly. "You already have."

Wesley looked down at his hands with embarrassment and then they turned their attention back to the sleeping boy. He was beginning to move his toes. Picard rubbed his knuckles along the top of Seth's head and the boy's eyes fluttered open. His gaze took a moment to focus on Jean-Luc's face. He smiled weakly. "I feel weird," he said.

Picard furrowed his brow with concern, still stroking the boy's head absently. "Define 'weird'," he murmured. "Does anything hurt you?"

"The back of my neck burns a little," Seth mumbled.

He glanced up and gave Beverly a small smile when she walked in the room. She looked absolutely exhausted. She put her arm through Wesley's and leaned against her son.

"You should get some sleep," Picard said to Beverly. "You _both_ should," he clarified, nodding toward Wesley.

"No…we _all_ should," Beverly corrected him.

He smiled slightly but then looked down at Seth growing serious again. The boy had closed his eyes again. Jean-Luc tried not to allow his worry to show.

Beverly leaned over Seth as his eyes fluttered open again. "Seth, honey we're going to take you home tonight. And tomorrow morning I am going to bring you back to sick bay to perform an operation to remove a small object from your neck."

He sat up slowly and brought his hand to the back of his neck. "Is that what's making my neck itch?"

She nodded. "Yes. So once it's out you will feel better."

"What's it doing in there?" he asked sounding more curious than anything.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But once I've removed it, I think it will be easier to figure that out. But I don't want you to worry too much. You're going to feel better soon enough."

"But what if—"

"Enough questions, young man," Picard interrupted. "You can continue talking to your heart's content once we get back to our quarters." Picard reached underneath the boy's armpits and picked him up carefully, and Seth settled into his shoulder.

Beverly smiled and looked at him. "I am so tired," she admitted, grabbing for Wesley's hand. Wesley tiredly pushed himself away from the wall and followed. As they walked out Beverly looked over at Jean-Luc. "You know the strangest thing happened to me a while ago here in sick bay…." She thought of Yar's odd necklace and then trailed off.

He paused and let her walk out first. "Whatever it was that happened…I bet I have something even more bizarre to tell you," Picard said, stepping out the door in back of her. Once out in the corridor he glanced in back of him just to ensure Ambassador Troi was not lurking about.

* * *

**Hello, thanks for your patience, I have had a lot going on at work, and haven't been able to write much. So, I've been thinking, and it's likely this will be my last few months writing fan fiction as I finish my stories up on this site. I will finish Man Out of Time, and then I believe this one will be it at least for a while as I focus on other projects. I will leave the stories up for the foreseeable future for new readers who are interested. It's been real/surreal. Thanks as always for reading. -PP**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

* * *

Yar reviewed the footage from the nightclub again carefully. Riker had tried to escape, but he was outnumbered, outgunned, and judging by the number of empty glasses on his table, he was also drunk. Yar had been around long enough to know that if you lost control, you paid the price. And Riker had lost control of the situation, which was why he was now in the hands of some criminals. Yar was very familiar with criminals too, and she wasn't concerned. Within 48 hours, Commander Riker would be safe on board, and if she had her way his kidnappers would either be dead or in custody. Yar didn't care which, as long as Captain Picard got what he wanted; Riker back alive.

Rubbing her fatigued eyes Yar looked closer, noticing the body posture of one of the assailants. There was something familiar about him. The one with the bright green eyes and longish brown hair was apparently the leader, and she didn't recognize him at all; but the shorter one with the cloak and hood...

"Computer magnify. Focus on the assailant wearing the hood...now brighten...focus on his face and sharpen the image." The computer did as she commanded, and she was eventually rewarded by a decent look at the man's face. A cold shock ran through her and she sat back in the chair almost out of reflex. He was missing an eye now and was more than twenty years older; but then so was Yar. She knew him alright. She wondered if he remembered her. Probably not. But she intended to reintroduce herself very soon.

* * *

Sonarra exited her office to find Tasha Yar waiting with her arms folded, leaning against the wall. The counselor gave Yar a brief look as she passed but said nothing. This area of the ship seemed nearly desolate as it was three in the morning and most everyone was asleep. She was curious as to why Lt. Yar was there, but she could guess it wasn't for an impromptu counseling session. Nevertheless she continued walking.

"You invited me to Ten Forward," Yar called after her. "And I want to know why."

Sonarra stopped in mid-stride and turned around. "Most people go to Ten Forward to eat or drink. Some socialize."

Yar laughed. "Vulcans don't socialize."

"Perhaps," Sonarra admitted. "Or perhaps Vulcans simply socialize in a way you are not accustomed to, Natasha."

Yar seemed to flinch at the use of her first name. "I don't socialize," she shot back.

Sonarra nodded curtly. "Very well. Good night then." She resumed her stride, but heard Yar's quick footsteps behind her.

"You didn't answer my question," Yar pressed. "Why did you ask me to Ten Forward?"

Sonarra glanced at the human woman, surprised that she didn't quite know the answer to that question. She tilted her head. "For some odd reason, and despite your difficult personality, Lt. Yar I find you…intriguing."

"I don't need someone to psychoanalyze me," said Yar. "I already know that I'm not always the most pleasant person to be around."

"I did not have to psychoanalyze you to come to the same conclusion," said Sonarra.

Yar glared at the Vulcan counselor. "And yet you're standing here still talking to me. Why don't you just admit that you are into me, and we can cut all of this clever conversation?"

"According to your psychological profile, you avoid long-term relationships of any kind. I would be unwise to pursue even a friendship with you."

Yar's eyes seemed to flash. "I don't need complications."

Sonarra shrugged.

Yar stared at the woman for a few more moments until gradually her expression softened to a degree. Finally she shrugged back. "Maybe I'll take you up on that drink if you're still offering it."

"It is quite late, and Ten Forward is closed," Sonarra observed dryly.

Yar smiled slightly and shifted her feet. "My quarters are still open."

* * *

"We really need to sort out this issue with our living quarters, Jean-Luc." The lights in his room were set to reflect that the computer knew it was now dawn. He looked up into her shadowed face and her hair swung down brushing his face.

Her hair tickled his nose, and for some reason he started to laugh.

"Shh!" she said, putting a hand over his mouth, at the same time trying not to laugh herself. "The kids are trying to sleep," she whispered loudly. Cautiously she lifted her hand and he made a snickering sound. He reached down to tickle her side, but she leaned over on her elbow and glared at him in the low light. She gripped his forearm lightly. "Jean-Luc, I'm _serious_ about this!"

He took a deep breath in and smiled, tracing his hand down her naked back. "This is just temporary. I'm having larger quarters renovated for us down the hall," he smiled wider at her shocked expression visible even in the darkness. "Did you _really_ think I didn't want to live with you and Wesley, Beverly?"

"No…I just thought you were being insensitive and completely forgot I was coming aboard. You haven't exactly been forthcoming with your plans, Jean-Luc."

"Touché," he murmured. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. "Can you ever forgive my callousness?"

She brought her lips to his neck. "This is all a big joke to you, isn't it?"

"Kind of," he admitted with quiet amusement. He felt her smooth palm moving on his chest and then gliding lower to his abdomen. She kissed him on his shoulder and he felt her smile as his stomach tightened a little at the touch of her fingertips.

He sucked in a breath, as her hand left his stomach and in an instant settled lightly on his upper thigh. "Now who's ticklish?" she asked.

"Not me," he said through gritted teeth.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire—"

"I'm not wearing any pants," he reminded her. "And it's all because of you."

"I know…." She glanced over at the clock. "It's 0530. I've got to get up and ready for surgery." She moved off of him again and then sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Well…at least I don't have to struggle to wake up," she said looking back at him. "And it's all because of you. You haven't let me get much sleep."

He rolled onto his side and propped himself up his elbow and stared up at her. "If I could spend every minute awake with you alone, I would."

She stared at him. He wasn't joking anymore. She reached back and took his offered hand. "I love you," she said with a smile and kissed his hand. She pulled her undershirt on.

"I love you too," he said. "I have to tell you something though…in the spirit of me learning to be more 'forthcoming.'"

She laughed and turned halfway to look at him. "Okay, out with it."

"Q came to visit me while I was recovering from that kick to my kidney. And he said something very strange—I don't know what to make of it, in fact."

She frowned. "Every time Q shows up he says something strange. I know he's your friend, Jean-Luc, but he's a very odd person."

Jean-Luc sat up now. "He's not a person….he's a Q."

"Well, you're still very much a Q…and also very much a person," she pointed out.

"Point taken," he said.

"Mm hmm…so what did he say this time?"

"He said that when I brought Yar back I inadvertently infused her with some aspects of my personality."

Beverly stood up and stared at him intently. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She demanded.

He pulled the sheet over his lap, suddenly feeling exposed under her glare. Her mood had changed very intensely in just a few moments, and he wished Guinan or someone else very wise was here to tell him why. "It means…it means—"

"That this new version of her is like you?" Beverly suddenly hugged herself. "I should have seen it…the way she was looking at me, I guess I just thought—"

Picard scurried out of bed, holding the blanket around his waist, now very serious himself. "What do you mean the way she looked at you? Did she threaten you?"

Beverly shook her head no. "Jean-Luc,_ think_ about it. She looked at me the same way you do."

His eyebrows shot up. "You mean?"

Beverly tilted her head. "Yes…and she held my hand. Jean-Luc, can this be undone? I mean it could end up being very awkward for me."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know…I don't see how. I don't even know how I did it in the first place—I mean how I made her similar to me."

Beverly sighed. "Well, I suppose there are worse things that could happen." She moved away to grab a towel for her shower.

"Are you serious?" he followed her now very anxious.

She looked at him, and indeed looked very serious. "Yes. If she's got a thing for me, hopefully that at least means she's forgotten her old self. I'd much rather have this Yar than the homicidal one we left behind._ If_ we really left her behind that is."

"But—are you sure you can—"

"Jean-Luc…I can handle this," she said, grabbing his hand and kissing him on the cheek. "Now, is that all you were going to tell me?"

"Well…actually it seems I have a secret admirer as well," he said somewhat resentfully.

She looked at him with a frown. "Who?"

_That's it, no tiptoeing around it,_ he thought somewhat disappointed by her mild reaction. He wrapped the sheet around him tighter and tried to regain some nobility. Still she eyed him with curious amusement. "If you must know…it is Ambassador Troi. She's quite enamored with me, although I have attempted to ward off her advances."

Beverly clapped her hand over her mouth, but not before her laughter escaped.

He frowned. "What? Why are you laughing?"

"Jean-Luc, apparently her admiration for you was only a secret to you. Because everyone else knew."

"Nonsense! What do you _mean_ everyone? Surely it hasn't been that obvious, Beverly-"

"Everyone, Jean-Luc. She obviously finds you very attractive."

"You don't seem the least bit concerned!"

She raised her eyebrows. "Should I be?"

"Well—well, don't look at me that way," he protested. It was that look again. "I _knew_ you would find a way to turn this around on me."

"Jean-Luc, let's talk about this later," she said leaning in to give him another kiss. "I've got to go to work."

"Yes of course," he said, sobering. "Let me throw some clothes on, and I'll go and get Seth."

* * *

_**Turkana IV 2344**_

_The young girl peeked out from the bottom of the window. The smoke from countless fires floated closer and closer to their home. Despite their well-secured home, she could almost smell the smoke. But she didn't feel fear; not with her parents around. "Natasha! Natasha, get away from the window," her mother shouted. _

_Seven year old Natasha Yar turned and looked at her mother, who was fitting a new power pack into her disruptor rifle. It was not an unusual sight. Her mother was a police officer, or at least she had been a police officer until the majority of the police had joined up with the drug cartels. Now to be exact, her mother was out of a job but still heavily armed. "Erik," her mother called out. "We have to go soon. The fighting is getting closer."_

_Her father Erik Yar entered the room with Tasha's little sister Ishara in his arms. She was only three and of course hardly knew that anything was wrong. Erik Yar had been a prominent government official, at least until the central government had been toppled just six months earlier. Now he too was out of a job. But right now, these were the least of the family's problems._

"_Alina, I told you we need to wait for a signal from the incoming transport and then we can go."_

"_Erik, if we don't go now, we won't make it," he mother insisted._

"_But if we go now we will be exposed and our girls could be harmed," he father argued back. _

_Just then a fiery object hurtled through the window Tasha had been looking out. "It's a bomb," her mother shouted. Grabbing a few belongings, Tasha's parents shoved her out of the door between them, while Erik held onto Ishara who was now crying. They threw themselves to the ground just as the top of their home blew off raining debris and cinders down upon them._

_Tasha felt her parents lift her up and push her forward and they were running as fast as they could. Suddenly they halted, seeing a series of armored vehicles had created a blockade. Gangs of men and women stood armed and ready to gun down any one of the terrified civilians. Suddenly a man's voice rang out on a loudspeaker._

"_Attention citizens of Turkana!" A man stepped out of the smoky surroundings. "My name is Caine. And now this neighborhood belongs to me. Just as the street next to this one, and the one next to that and so on….The rule is very simple. You stay in this area now. If you try to leave, I'll kill each and every one of you. Make nice and I might give you jobs working for me. Give me trouble and I will not hesitate to kill you."_

_He walked forward and his shock of pale blond hair looked t_hat much _brighter in contrast to the black fog in the air. _

_That was when Tasha's mother raised her rifle, capturing Caine in her sights. Caine smiled and looked in her direction. Quickly he raised a small disruptor and fired. Tasha saw her mother fall into the dust, and ran to her side. She tried to revive her mother, but even Tasha could tell that her mother's staring eyes no longer held any life. _

_Caine walked forward swiftly. Smiling down at the young girl, he kicked her mother's gun toward Tasha. Tasha looked down at the gun and then back up at the man, squinting. He stared at her, but then after a moment bent down and picked up the gun himself. Without hesitation he fired twice into her father's chest, and she swung around to watch, clamping her hands over her face in horror._

_Caine knelt down in the dirt. "You hesitated…and look what happened. I bet you'll never forget that lesson, will you kid?"_

Yar sat up gasping in bed. A memory, a horrible memory replayed again and again inside her brain. She felt the bed next to her. It was empty. She had invited Sonarra home with her, but nothing had happened between them. Eventually the counselor had left. Another person Yar had driven away. She pulled the sheet up over her head and lay back down hoping for sleep.

* * *

**Enterprise Sick Bay 2365**

Beverly Crusher moved the surgical scanner hanging over her head and brought it down to Seth's neck. It illuminated his skin and showed his spinal cord very clearly along with the now obvious metal object nestled in his vertebrae. He was lying on his stomach, and the monitors showed he was unconscious and stable. He wouldn't feel a thing; but could she even complete this procedure safely? The more she looked at the object, the more she noted that it had moved significantly just in the last few hours. "Alyssa…please come here."

"Yes Doctor." Alyssa Ogawa hurried over to Crusher's side.

"Hold the scanner for me," Beverly said glancing up at the nurse. "You see this?" she said pointing at the base of Seth's neck. "I've waited too long. It's actually moved further into his neck over the past four hours."

Alyssa studied the area the scanner was targeting and then looked up at Beverly in alarm. "It's in danger of pressing on his vertebral nerve, Doctor. If it goes any further it will begin to cut off blood flow…."

"And cause a stroke," Beverly finished. "This thing could kill him, Alyssa. Let's get started."

* * *

**Three hours later…**

Beverly sat down outside of the surgical area and leaned her head back against the wall. She was exhausted, but relieved. The surgery had been a success, and she had removed the strange metallic object from her son's neck. The outside of the object was manganese, but the internal structure was unknown. It was now stored away in a secure container and she felt confident that Felix Gardner would continue researching it in his lab and the object's origin would be identified.

She sighed and allowed herself a small smile. Soon she would be able to take him out of sick bay and back home. _Home._ Her smile grew wider. Just months ago, she never would have pictured this being her life, but as tumultuous as it had been, she didn't want to change it for anything. She closed her eyes and thought of pleasant things.

Suddenly Felix Gardner popped his head into the room. "Doctor, I'm sorry…but something's gone wrong."

Beverly's eyes snapped open. "What?" she got to her feet, feeling a surge of adrenaline go through her body. "What's happened?"

"It's Seth. We're reading a viral infection, and it's spreading quickly."

"Virus, what kind of virus," she demanded rushing out the door with Felix.

"We've never seen it before, Doctor."


End file.
